The Life and Lies of a Skooma Addict
by TheCrazyFool1995
Summary: The Redguard named Famain was left by his mother in Bravil on the doorstep of the Loches. This story is about his life, his addiction and his search for his past. Rated T for later violence and substance abuse. 1st chap is a prologue. Enjoy!
1. Prologue

Okay, just a quick note about the story:

It is set a couple of years after Oblivion. Game addicts like myself may also recognise a couple of the characters from the game. These obviously do not belong to me, they belong to Bethesda. Finaly, I have the Unofficial Elder Scrolls Pages to thank for the info. Now, let the story commence! :)

Prologue

On the very last day of the Last Seed in the 435th year of the 3rd era, a Redguard was born in Bravil, in dark and dingy alleyway in the southern most point of the town. His mother was a scrawny thing, her collar bones protruded sharply from her weak frame. Ebony hair fell to the floor as she sat hunched on a crate, cradling her babe. She gulped back several tears of pain as she carefully lay the baby down on the floor. The effort of putting her newborn down took much of her energy. She leant against the wall of a filthy house and panted, spasms crossing her face. The baby beside her began to bawl, in the screeching way all babies do. She extended her boney hand and grasped the child's tiny fingers. A ring with a small black stone set in the middle of it glinted in the moonlight as she clung to her baby's hand. It's crying ceased, but instead it began to whimper, sensing death creeping upon his mother. With what little energy she had left, the woman slowly got to her feet. Her ragged clothes hung limply on her body. A wave of coughing caught her as she straightened herself. Bent double, a hacking cough gripped her, making her weaker by each passing second. Several guards who were patrolling the streets looked curiously down the alleyway, but turned away once they saw the lady; they had seen this many times before. As their footsteps echoed into nothingness, the woman sunk to her knees. She picked up her young son and cradled him in her arms. She looked lovingly into his face, and then gasped at what she had not seen before-the young boy had curly black hair, like many Redguards, but his eyes, his eyes were as golden as the sun. They shone like the rays at dawn and glinted with happiness, joy and many other things his mother had not experienced for a long time.

"You going to be a special one you are." she said soothingly. The baby gurgled contently at the sound of his mother's voice. Once again the woman was overcome by coughing. By the time it had finished, she was drained. She slumped against the opposite wall and stared at her son. His arms flailed helplessly as he lay on the ground. He turned his head and smiled when he saw her. The wind began to pick up. Obviously sensing he was cold, the woman wrapped her child in her scraggly shawl. She coughed into her hands once more. As she drew them away, she saw they were spattered with blood. Sighing she took her son into her arms once more. She placed him onto her lap then stared up into the sky. The night would end shortly, and with it her life. Her past would be unknown to her son. She hoped that it would remain that way. She murmured a quick prayer to Akatosh then carefully got to her feet, holding her son in her arms. She staggered into the main square, the Lucky Old Lady statue stared at her kindly. She leant against it for a moment for support then continued on her way. The sun was creeping into the town by this time. The woman began to breathe heavy, rasping breaths. She quickened her pace and collapsed on the doorstep of the Loche household. She placed her son upon the doorstep. She kissed him upon his forehead and murmured in his ear,

"May the gods bless you with the life I never had, my son." She stood upright and watched her son as he wriggled in the shawl. Finally, the woman tore her gaze from her baby and staggered away, never to be seen again. Later on that morning, Ursanne Loche discovered the newborn boy on the steps by her door. Without a second thought, she took him in as if he had been her own all along. Little did she, her husband or the boy himself know what mixed up past and future the abandoned babe would have.


	2. One

One

One

"Famain? Anna?" cried Ursanne. Her face was pale as she ran through the streets. Passing guards and civilians stared as she rushed past, holding up her ragged skirt. "Where are you?" she ran across the bridge as fast as she could. It swayed violently and she nearly toppled over. Below the bridge, however, were the people she was looking for. Famain, the young Redguard was crouched at the edge of the filthy river, playing with a small wooden boat. He was about ten years old, scruffy and a little on the thin side. He was so immersed in his little game with the boat he didn't hear his foster mother's anxious calls. Famain pushed the boat out into the middle of the river. It bobbed for a few minutes on the surface, before sinking after a particularly large wave hit it. He groaned as he watched it sink to the murky depths of the Larsius River. Beside him, someone else groaned too; his 'sister', Anna. She was two years younger than Famain, and his devoted follower. She resembled her mother in appearance, with her brown eyes and slightly gaunt features, but instead had very dark, shoulder length hair. She peered over the bank into the muddy water, squinting to see if she could see the toy boat.

"I think that one's gone for good." she said, sighing. She stood up and began to clamber up the bank. "Come on!" she called to Famain "Mother will be worrying by now!" Famain slowly got to his feet and followed Anna up the hill. When he reached the top, his eyes met the miserable and squalid town he called home. He _loathed_ it here. You couldn't walk around the streets without bumping into a beggar or stepping in something squishy and foul-smelling. The residents often spoke of the beautiful and idyllic Cheydinhal or the wondrous Imperial City, but no matter how much he yearned to go to such places, he knew his possibilities of setting foot in either area where very slim. The roads through Cyrodiil where long and treacherous and were often swarming with bandits and an array of wild beasts. It would be impossible for a commoner like himself to make it to those cities in one piece. The only safe ways of getting around were by boat or on horse, something neither he nor his foster family would ever be able to afford. Glumly, he trudged back to the family shack behind Anna. When they got back, they were greeted by Ursanne's angry shouts.

"Where have you two been?" she screamed, her face bright red with fury. "You both know the streets aren't safe for two so young! You _know_ the type of people that live here along side us!" she glared at the two youngsters. Famain stared at his feet, a little embarrassed. Anna beside him stared guiltily at the floor too. He quickly glanced up at Ursanne. Her face was still a violent shade of scarlet, but her features had softened a little. Aleron, her husband was sat by the fireplace, smoking his pipe. He got to his feet and put a hand on his wife's shoulder.

"Let's just be glad that they're safe." he said in his low voice. Ursanne nodded stiffly and move out of the door way. Anna hastily ran up to their shared room. Famain, on the other hand followed Aleron to his chair. The Breton sat down and began to puff his pipe once more.

"Thanks." murmured Famain quietly. Aleron nodded in appreciation and smiled.

"Ursanne has been more uptight recently over the murder of Gellius Terentius." he lay his pipe down on the table beside him. Ursanne, who was cleaning the window sill, shot her husband a look; she didn't much like him talking about those sorts of things to someone so young. Aleron ignored her and continued. "You've probably heard people muttering it about in the streets." Famain nodded.

"Yes, they keep hushed about it 'cause the guards don't like it being discussed openly." Aleron smiled grimly.

"They wouldn't would they." he said, chuckling. Famain took a step closer so he could catch every word. He didn't know much about the count's son's murder, but it defiantly intrigued him. Not much else that interesting happened in Bravil. All he knew was that last week, Terentius went missing and three days later City Swimmer the Argonian found his body drifting just outside the town in Niben Bay. There had been much controversy over his killer's identity, but Famain knew little of it.

"Well," said Aleron, making Famain jump "You might have heard everyone arguing about what happened." He leaned closer to make sure that the young boy could hear him. "The guards, who don't want to get of their lazy backsides, are just dismissing it as a freak accident and are saying that Terentius fell into the bay and drowned." Famain held his breath, eager to hear more. Aleron cleared his throat. "Anyway, from what City Swimmer has been telling everyone, most people have come to the conclusion that someone killed him. She says she found him lying in the water with a large gash in his chest, probably made by a sword or dagger." He stopped, picked up his pipe and smoked it for a minute. Famain waited with bated breath. Although he knew a murder was not something to be excited about, he couldn't help being so interested. Aleron smiled at him, obviously reading his face. "Now," continued Aleron "some so-called 'witnesses' say that they saw a Dunmer with him when he disappeared and that they saw this Dunmer walk Terentius outside the gates then return without him. The only problem is," he coughed "the only problem is there are very few Dunmers in this town, particularly males. This particular one is said to be about eighteen and noble. I don't think any of the noble Dunmers around here are_ that _young, do you?" Famain sniggered quietly. The Dunmer nobles of the Bravil Castle were most certainly not eighteen, or indeed any younger than thirty or forty. "You see my point, don't you? Not only that, but there is no record of a male noble Dunmer of that age visiting Bravil in over six years." Famain looked at him, wondering how he knew such information. As if reading his mind, Aleron said "A friend of mine from the pub 'borrowed' the visitors list to check." Once again, Ursanne shot her husband a disapproving look. Famain hoped that she wouldn't stop Aleron's story. He loved his foster mum dearly, but she was always very over protective. When Aleron got tickets to see a match at the Arena (a once in a lifetime opportunity) she refused to let Famain and Anna go as she argued they were too young. In the end, none of them went, as neither of the Loches could find someone to watch over the two children. Aleron cleared his throat once more. "What most of us down at The Lonely Suitor think is that it was a Khajiit. Aia was wondering down by the bay looking for deer when she saw a Khajiit hacking away at Terentius. She says she hid among the brambles and watched this Khajiit slaughter Terentius, remove something from his corpse then hurry off. A poor looking guy she said he was. None of the guard believed her of course. Again, they couldn't be bothered to do anything. They just said she was telling her stories again." Famain looked into his foster father's eyes.

"Who do you think he was, and why did he want kill Terentius? As far as I know he was a clean man who didn't get into to much trouble." To his surprise, Aleron boomed with laughter.

"You evidently don't know much about him then do you?" Famain shook his head. "Thought not. You see, Gellius Terentius is about as clean as my finger nails." The Redguard looked at him, bemused.

"What do you mean?" he asked. Aleron sighed.

"He's on Skooma! He goes to the den at least once a week." Famain looked at him once more, still confused. "You see, Skooma-" a loud bang issued from the corner of the room. Ursanne was once again bright red and furious.

"That is ENOUGH!" she bellowed, her hair flying. "I do not want one so young poisoned by all this murder stuff and other such nonsense!" Aleron recoiled slightly in his chair. Ursanne turned to Famain. "Come on, off you go to bed!" not wanting to argue with a furious Ursanne, Famain hurriedly scuttled up the stairs and into his room. It was small and rather cramped, with his and Anna's beds squished next to each other. She was already in her nightgown and was sat on her quilt clutching her moth-eaten teddy.

"What was mum shouting about?" she asked as soon as he closed the door. "I think all of Cyrodiil heard her." She chucked her bear to the far side of her bed.

"Dad telling me about Terentius' murder." said Famain, his voice muffled as he attempted to pull his jerkin over his head. Anna clambered nearer, her eyes bright.

"Please tell me!" she asked imploringly. Famain smiled and recounted Aleron's story. When he was finished, Anna let out a long, low whistle. "Wow!" she said in an excited, but hushed tone. "I would never have guessed!" She fiddled with a hole in her covers. "I wonder what that Skooma stuff is." Famain nodded in agreement.

"What ever it is, mum doesn't want us to know about it. It must be something really bad."

"Yeah…" muttered Anna. She stared at the wooden ceiling for a few minutes, and then smiled mischievously at Famain. "What would you say to doing a little investigation of our own? You know, trying to find out who the murderer is, and what in Akatosh's name Skooma is?" Famain grinned.

"Brilliant!" he shouted. Footsteps echoed up the stairs. The pair dived into their beds, and just in time; Ursanne opened the door and suspiciously studied the two children. Sensing no movement, she quietly re-shut it. Anna grinned at Famain and gave him the thumbs up. As they drifted of to sleep, Famain's dreams were filled with plans and ideas of how to execute this idea under Ursanne's watchful eye.


	3. Two

Two

Famain sat anxiously on the window sill, staring through the glass. It was still dark outside and was extremely cold. He shivered a little, but continued his silent vigil. He was waiting for something, anything, which looked suspicious. He saw it.

"Anna!" he hissed, shaking her bed. "Anna get up!" she sat bolt upright.

"What is it?" she whispered excitedly. He pointed towards the Great Chapel of Mara. A shadowed figure was sneaking towards the wooden doors of the church. From what the pair could make out, it was a Khajiit, matching the description Wretched Aia had given Aleron. The Khajiit cast around the area to check no one was watching then snuck inside. Within a minute, Anna and Famain were dressed and were creeping out of their bedroom. Famain's heart was pounding loudly in his chest. What if a floor board creaked, waking Ursanne? He shuddered to think what punishment she would give them for trying to capture a hostile murderer. As silent as possible, the pair crept down stairs. Suddenly there was a loud bang and Famain spun round; Anna was stood stock still, clutching a vase. They waited for a minute, hardly daring to breathe. A few minutes passed, and as there no sounds other than Aleron's snoring, the continued through the living area. Famain blew out a sigh of relief as the finally reached the door.

"Hurry, he's already got a head start!" he whispered to Anna. She nodded and carefully opened the door. A freezing cold wind met them, and Famain was sorely tempted just to go back to bed. Anna gave him a little push, and quietly re-shut the wooden door. They ran as fast as they could to the chapel, stones cutting at their bare feet. It took both of them to open the chapel's giant, reinforced doors. The interior was silent, meaning the Khajiit was already deeper inside the chapel. Famain beckoned Anna to follow him. She gulped then raced after him. He hared down the stairs; the stone slabs felt like ice beneath his feet. He reached the bottom, and stopped to wait for Anna, who was tentatively coming down the stairs.

"I don't like this, Famain." she whispered, her tone panicky. "I think he's gone into the undercroft. You know what kind of things live down there don't you?" Famain nodded. His excitement had also subsided to fear. Everyone was warned away from the Chapel Undercroft. All sorts of undead beasts, for example zombies and ghosts, dwelled there. People often said they came back to frighten away or kill trespassers who dared to disturb their final resting place. That was why the doors were so heavily locked; to prevent any foolish person stumbling into undead monsters.

"Maybe he went into the Chapel Hall." Famain said. Anna nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, maybe he just went there." they both knew this was highly unlikely. Famain went up to the first undercroft door and pushed; to his relief, it didn't budge. He walked up to the second and pushed lightly. The door swung open with a deafening creak. He doubted that any monster living within five miles of the entrance wouldn't have heard that. He glanced at Anna. She was very pale and her eyes had dilated.

"I suppose I'm going first?" asked Famain. Anna just stood there. Shaking with fear rather than cold, he took his first step inside. He knew immediately that they weren't welcome. An eerie wind had begun to pick up, making a horrible whistling sound. The floor echoed loudly with every step they took and the dim candle light flickered menacingly. Every shadow took on the form of a horrific monster. Every time they turned the corner, they half expected a zombie to drag its corpse-like body towards them or a skeletal entity to charge at them, wielding an axe. Famain could feel his heart pulsing hard in his chest. His breath was rapid and seemed to get caught in his throat. It echoed noisily through the undercroft, making his fear mount higher. Some ivy rattled from behind. He heard a sharp intake of breath. Anna grabbed his arm and clung on so tight he could no longer feel it.

"Please, can we just go home?" she begged. Famain said nothing. He could hear soft footsteps from somewhere in the gloom ahead. Quickly, he ducked behind a coffin, pulling his sister with him. They stayed there, crouched, waiting for the person to reveal it's self. Light began to creep closer as the footsteps got louder. The Khajiit they had been following immerged from the shadows, holding a torch in one hand and a dagger in the other. He was exceedingly tall, even for a Khajiit. A deep scar spanned diagonally across his face. He was lean and muscley, his arms and legs flexing as he cast around.

"Must be around here somewhere…" he muttered. He stopped. His large ears must have picked up something because he started to walk towards the children's hiding place. Famain held his breath as light slid towards him. The Khajiit's eyes were narrowed with suspicion as he waved the light around to see if it illuminated anyone. He menacingly slashed at the air.

"Who's there?" he growled, slashing his dagger once more. Famain knew that to be found out now would mean an imminent death. He shuddered at the thought of his souls trapped in this terrible undercroft, searching for an escape of from this realm for all eternity, not being able to rest until his body was found and buried properly. The Khajiit was now inches from their hiding place. He felt Anna tense beside him. Suddenly the Khajiit turned around and began to stalk away. Famain let out a shaky breath. That had been _way_ to close. He turned to Anna, pressed a finger to his lips and beckoned her to follow him. He scuttled, still half crouched, to a nearby pillar, following the footsteps of the Khajiit. The Khajiit turned into a small passageway. Famain crept behind him, sticking to the shadows. He stopped abruptly, forcing Famain and Anna into a corner so they wouldn't be seen.

"Ahh," he said, his voice rolling "there you are!" He stepped into an antechamber at the end of the passageway. Silently, the pair followed him. In the centre of the dismal room lay an ornately decorated stone table. Laid upon this table was the corpse of Gellius Terentius. He was dressed in his best clothes and the amulet of his family was fastened round his neck.

"Some loot!" said the Khajiit, chuckling. He pulled the amulet from the corpse's neck and removed several rings from its pale fingers. He then began to search the deceased pockets. "Ah ha!" he exclaimed "Some of the good stuff! I thought I missed some!" He withdrew his hand from the pocket. In it he clutched a small, lilac coloured bottle. He gave it a shake before putting it and the jewelry inside a leather pouch. Having finished with the body, he began to search the pots and chests that lay beside it. His search was fruitful, as he found several pieces of silverware, a few soul gems and a couple of rubies and sapphires. Watching him made Farim feel sick; why would anyone want to steal from the dead? It shocked him that anyone would want to come to this horrible place just for a few bits of jewelry and silver. You could find that kind of loot in any old cave- at least taking from them wasn't illegal, unlike this. But, what Farim did suspect was that the Khajiit man hadn't come here mainly for the trinkets. He had a sneaking suspicion that the main reason he had come was for that little bottle. Whatever it contained must be of great value; whether it be worth a lot of gold or just did something really spectacular for the drinker. Famain was frightened, but curious about it-he couldn't help but wonder what was in that little bottle. Anna tugging on his arm brought him away from his thoughts.

"Famain, we must go!" she pleaded "Once he's finished looting, he'll leave this way won't he? He'll see us!" Famain felt his heart jolt. She was right. His head thumping, he crept back along the gloomy passageway. He meandered through the pillars, following the shadows whenever he could. When he was out of earshot of the Khajiit, he broke into a run, Anna hot on his heels. He had absolutely no intention of spending another minute in such a dismal place. They rounded a corner and found that the door was within sight. Famain and Anna raced towards it as fast as they could. Famain wrenched it open and the pair toppled out of the undercroft onto the stone floor. The chapel was full of chatter as people arrived for the morning service. Keeping their heads low, Famain and Anna scuttled out of the reinforced doors. They leant against the stone outer-walls of the chapel, panting.

"Well, at least we know Aia was right, the murder _was_ a Khajiit." muttered Anna, still heaving. Famain clutched at a stitch in his side.

"Yeah – what I want to know," he said, breathing heavily "is what was in that little bottle. That seems to be the main reason he went." Anna nodded briskly.

"Mm, you're right. I bet," she panted, waving her hand "I bet it's that Skooma dad told you about, or at least attempted to tell you about." Her face went pale. "Mum…" she whispered hoarsely. Famain gaped at her. As though struck by lighting, the children shot off like rockets across the street, dodging horses, guards and townsfolk, trying to make their way back to the house as fast as possible. Anna beat Famain to it and dived into the living room, bashing into the table. She leapt at the stairs. Farim watched as she thundered up them, her feet whacking the wood hard. They came to an abrupt holt. Curious to see what had happened, Famain trudged upstairs. The site he met was very unpleasant. A very scared looking Anna was staring into Ursanne's very red face. She looked livid. She was stood in her moth-eaten night gown. Her hair was stuck up at odd angles, making her look even madder. She took a step forward and Anna quickly ducked behind Farim, quaking in her mother's rage.

"And where have you two been?" her voice was quite, yet Farim could detect anger pulsing through her tones. "Hmmm?" She glared at them, her pupils dilated. "Well? Where have you been?" Famain tried to open his mouth, but nothing came out. He had only once before seen Ursanne this angry. He was five at the time, and the experience wasn't pleasant then. He didn't think it would be any better this time round. She coughed. "Where. Have. You. BEEN!" It seemed as though his mother had erupted. He swore he could see steam rising from her head. Behind him, Anna shook with fear. If it was between going back into that undercroft and enduring a furious Ursanne's wrath, he'd take the undercroft. "AFTER I SPECIFICALLY TOLD YOU LAST NIGHT, YOU DISOBAY ME!" Famain too now cowered from Ursanne's fury. "AFTER I TOLD YOU HOW DANGEROUS THE STREETS WERE, YOU TWO DECIDE TO WONDER OFF AT THE CRACK OF DAWN TO GOD KNOWS WHERE! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN HURT! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED AND I WOULD NEVER KNOW!" She heaved deep breaths, trying to keep herself under control. She pointed to there bedrooms and did an impression of a fish. Not wanting to anger her more (or stay in her company any longer) they walked as fast as possible without running to their bedroom. Famain hurriedly shut the door behind them.

"I don't think we should mention we were in the undercroft." muttered Famain in an almost inaudible whisper, just incase Ursanne was listening.

"She'd have a fit." said Anna, agreeing.

"She'd disown us." whispered Famain, smiling a little.

"Do you reckon it's safe to tell dad?" asked Anna, yawning. Famain contemplated this for a second.

"Probably, I think he meant for us to find out who did it, you know what dad's like."

"Still, I don't think he'd be too chuffed if we told him we'd been exploring the chapel undercroft." Anna jumped onto her bed and sat leant against the wall.

"Agreed. I think we should tell him later, if we catch the murderer. He probably won't mind if we give him a fat bag of septims as we tell him. It probably wouldn't calm mum though." Famain sat on his own bed. He was extremely tired. He _had_ been up all night, keeping watch. Without another word, he slipped off into sleep, dreaming of the undercroft and the nameless Khajiit murderer.


	4. Three

Three

It was an overcast day as Anna and Famain sat at the side of the dirt path, gloomily sticking twigs together with mud. Their adventure had earned them their biggest punishment ever. Unfortunately, Famain's suspicions had been right; Ursanne _had_ been listening at the door. When she heard them talk of entering the undercroft, she had thrown open the door and began ranting once more. She berated them for entering a place of rest for the deceased. It had been about a month since then, and still Ursanne refused to let them out of her sight. She was there now. Famain could see her spying on them through the curtain widow of their living room across the road.

"Do you think she'll ever leave us alone?" muttered Famain. Ursanne was eyeing him suspiciously through a gap in the curtains.

"I doubt it." replied Anna, her fingers caked in mud from her attempts at making a wigwam. "She probably won't stop watching us 'till were old and our children have children." She looked up as the curtains closed.

"What in the name of Akatosh can we do now?" asked Famain moodily, prodding a lump in his pile. "This is as boring as Oblivion! Worse still, I bet the murderer has gone by now. I honestly doubt he'd stick around after killing a noble. Probably gone to the Imperial City…" Once again, Famain lapsed into silence, dreaming of that wondrous capital.

"Famain!" shouted Anna, giving him a shove. He jumped and glared at her.

"What?" said Famain, sounding annoyed. What did a person have to do to get some peace?

"You and you're Imperial City!" said Anna, shaking her head. "Get back to reality! How do you think we should capture this murderer...?" Famain sighed.

"Drop it Anna, like I said, he's probably long gone by now. Anyway, it'd be impossible for two kids to take on a bloody murderer on our own! We'd be dead within a minute!"

"You sound just like mum." said Anna, folding her arms grumpily. Famain shrugged and began to poke idly at his mud pile again. He craved to go swimming in the bay, but as part of their punishment, they were forbidden to go outside of the gates. Sighing, he got up and stretched his legs. A drop of rain plopped onto his ragged jerkin. Soon, the drizzle became a downpour.

"Come on." muttered Famain, gesturing towards the house. Slowly Anna got to her feet and began to trudge up to the shabby shack they called home. Famain followed her. When he reached the door, he stared at the grubby wooden walls, imagining what it would be like if he lived in a beautiful Imperial Manor, or a decorative Cheydinhal Villa. He smiled at the thought of this. It was a ridiculous thought. He entered the dimly lit living area and flopped down on the bench. He picked up the large book on the spindly table beside it. Its cover was navy blue leather and rather batted. Peeling gold letters read _The Many Towns of Cyrodiil_. He flicked it open and began to read. During the time of his punishment, Famain had come across this old, dust-covered book shoved at the back of his parent's bookshelf. It was actually a really interesting read. It contained an accurate map of Cyrodiil and loads of information on each of the towns. Beautiful illustrations of the towns made up many of the pages. The ones of Bravil made the run-down town look stunning. He quickly flipped to the page he'd been reading and was soon immersed in it.

"It's nice to see you're doing something sensible." said a voice. Famain looked up. Ursanne was clutching a broom, smiling at him. She leant it against the side table and sat down beside him.

"This is for your own good, you do know that?" Famain nodded stiffly. His foster mother ruffled his hair. "You should learn to keep out of trouble." she said "It'll do you good." Famain smiled a little before returning to his book. The bench creaked as Ursanne stood up. He heard her footsteps fade into the kitchen. He continued to read, but something inside his head was telling him to turn around. He ignored it, but he couldn't shake of the feeling something really important was happening beyond the pain of glass behind him.

"It won't hurt to look." he muttered to himself. He rose from the bench, turned around and squinted through the layer of muck. What Famain saw surprised him so much that he dropped the book heavily on his foot. Eyes streaming and biting back howls of pain, Famain hobbled up the staircase to his room. His sister was sat on the floor, reading one of her books; _The Real Barenziah_. Famain yanked it from her hands and chucked it on the bed.

"OI!" she yelled, standing up. "I was reading that!" Anna leaned across the bed to retrieve it, but he stopped her. She glared at him.

"He's still here." Famain whispered. "I just saw him!" Anna gaped at him.

"But I thought he would have left! Murderers don't tend to stick around once they've committed such a crime!" She dashed to their bedroom window. "He's still there! Look!" she pointed to the house opposite them. The Khajiit murderer was talking to Breton woman. After a minute the pair strode off. "Where's mum?" Anna asked.

"In the kitchen. I think we could out of the house without her noticing."

"I think we can risk it." muttered Anna. "Dad's still at work, isn't he?" Famain nodded. As though they had come to some kind of silent agreement, Anna and Famain stole out of their room, down the stairs and out of the house before their mother could even leave the kitchen. The walked calmly towards the opposite house to throw of any suspicion then follow the winding cobblestone path towards the walls of the town. It was as they crept towards the inn, Silverhome on the Water, that they heard hushed voices.

"Why'd you do it?" came a woman's angry whisper "You KNOW I can get you you're stuff without resorting to this!" Famain heard a load thud as she whacked a barrel.

"Well, I didn't want to leave the job half done. I knew there was some stuff still on his body. I would have got it all if that stupid beggar, Aia hadn't been snooping around." Famain held his breath as the tail of the Khajiit curled round the corner. "Anyway," continued the Khajiit "Why does it matter that I killed him. He nicked it from us! I had the right to pry what was ours from his cold, dead hands!"

"Yes, but it's illegal, you know that! You're just lucky Aia didn't recognize you! They would have found us out, and it wouldn't have been just you that they hung!" Famain and Anna listened more intently. It seemed there were more people involved in this than they thought. "Thanks to you," the woman said "I'm going to have to get us all out of here. The guards aren't as dumb as they look, they'll make the connection. Terentius' secret wasn't all that secret!"

"Don't worry you're socks of Roxy, no-one saw me except the Beggar."

"How do you know? You said yourself that when you foolishly went into the undercroft to retrieve what was left you thought you heard someone!"

"Probably nothing." dismissed the Khajiit. They heard his pads crunch on the rocks. "Don't worry, if the guards come nosing, I'll get out of Bravil sharp-ish."

"What about the rest of them! If Aia gives the description to the guards, J'zin-Dar could be blamed, and again, we'd all hang for being in possession and dealing!" A shatter of glass echoed from around the corner. A smashed lantern rolled towards them.

"Don't be so paranoid Roxy!" hissed the Khajiit, his voice getting louder. "No one is going to find out. You're not going to tell no-one, J'zin-Dar isn't, no one is. And if that retched beggar squawks one word, it'll be her that'll hang from a tree!" he ended his rant, heaving.

"I just hope you're right." muttered the woman called Roxy.

"No one will believe her anyway, everyone knows what she's like." Their footsteps faded towards the river. Famain dragged Anna around the corner. They watched as Roxy (the same Breton they saw earlier) and the Khajiit rounded the corner and headed in the direction of Anna's and Famain's house. Silently they followed, praying their shadows wouldn't give them away. Famain peered around the corner. He just caught the glimpse of a tail swishing round the back of the house right next to theirs. They strode calmly towards their own house so not to give themselves away to the Khajiit or the Breton who were climbing up the weathered stairs to the top story of the building. The murderer and his friend reached the top of the stairs. The woman hastily opened the door and darted inside it, pulling the Khajiit in after her. Famain heard the click of a lock. As soon as they were sure no one was looking, Famain and Anna ran round to the back of the house and began to climb the stairs. They were extremely old and worn, creaking with each step. Famain sent a silent prayer to Akatosh that they wouldn't be heard by the Breton, Khajiit or anyone else inside the building. Famain breathed a little easier when they reached the top without injury.

"How do we get in?" hissed Anna "They've locked the door!" Famain cast around, looking for something that could help them. All that was on the small platform was an empty barrel.

"We could kick the door down?" suggested Famain.

"And get caught by a murderer? Not the best of ideas. If possible, we need to get in without being seen!" Anna froze, her face became pale. Heavy clunks were approaching. The platform wobbled slightly.

"Guards!" mouthed Famain. Anna pointed at the barrel. Famain tore the lid off and clambered inside, and just in time. Through a gap in the wood, he could see a burly looking guard, his face stony.

"You shouldn't be up here missy!" he said gruffly.

"I-er um…"

"Come on, you're comin' with me!" he said seizing her arm. "Where d'ye live?" Famain saw Anna point at their small house. He watched the guard begin to pull Anna away. Over the clanging of the guard's iron boots, he heard a soft clink on the floor. As he peered through the gap, he could see Anna's hair clip lying on the floor. Soon, the guard's footsteps faded. He waited a minute to make sure he was gone. As he waited, he stared at the clip, wondering why Anna left it. It took another moment for it to click. He knew what he had to do.


	5. Four

Four

Famain carefully removed the lid from the barrel. He placed it on the floor and snatched up the hair clip that lay on the platform. He stole towards the door and peeked through the key hole. The interior of the building was small and run-down. He couldn't see the Khajiit or the Breton, so that was a good sign. A little to the left, a stair case led up to what seemed to be a small low room. All the voices seemed to be coming from there. Famain sighed, relieved. It seemed that getting in would be easier than he thought. He would have the element of surprise upon the residents of the house. He quickly bent the hair clip into a straight-ish shape and inserted it into the key hole. He twiddled it back and forth, clock wise and anticlockwise, listening out for the tell-tail click of the door unlocking. He became more and more frustrated each time the clip got stuck. He just prayed it wouldn't snap, or that someone would enter the downstairs area. Famain jumped at every little noise, half expecting a guard to drag him down the stairs or someone from within the house to throw open the door and discover him trying to pick lock their front door. After an agonizing few minutes, the lock clicked-and he was in. The door opened soundlessly. The interior was small and shabby. Hundreds of the lilac bottles lay scattered on the tables. Parchment with scribbles of prices, names and quantities lay strewn on a scratched wooden table. Clothes had been dumped on the floor or draped on the backs of chairs. One shirt had a large splattering of blood on it. An iron dagger lay next to this shirt. It too was covered in blood. Famain gulped. He didn't like the looks of this place. He hadn't seen much of it through the key hole and was not inclined to find out what lay upstairs. He listened to the voices above him. He recognized the woman's and the Khajiit's, but two he didn't recognize at all. He began to look around the house once more. He picked up one of the bottles and sniffed it. Despite it being empty, he still got a whiff its old contents. It was extremely sweet, dizzyingly sweet in fact.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? An intruder?" Famain spun around. Towering above him was a Khajiit, but not the same one that he had seen before. This one looked a bit younger and scrawnier. He was still menacing like his friend. His tone was also harsher and crueler. He glared at Famain. In a split second, Famain felt himself be slammed against the wall by his throat. The Khajiit had him pinned, the iron dagger cold against his cheek.

"Get down here you lot!" he called "We've got a little visitor!" three people soon emerged at the foot of the stairs. Roxy the Breton and the Khajiit murder were accompanied by a Nordic man. He was about forty and looked more than a little drunk. Famain could smell the liquor of him from about five feet away. The murderer stepped towards the murderer and eyed Famain. "I found him snooping around here when I came down stairs. What do you think we should do with him, R'vanni?" The murderer looked Famain up and down.

"Keep him alive for now." he muttered "We'll soon find out why he was here." R'vanni grabbed Famain's wrist and handed him to Roxy. The other Khajiit looked at R'vanni with annoyance.

"Come on now." said Roxy kindly. She carefully led Famain upstairs. The second story consisted of one room. A couple of sleeping sacks lined the floor. Two chairs were shoved at the back of the room. She sat down on one and gestured for Famain to sit on the other.

"Don't worry, I won't let them hurt you." she said soothingly. Her tone reminded him strongly of Ursanne when she was comforting him. "The boys can get a bit wound up at times, particularly J'zin Dar." she patted Famain on the shoulder. "I'll set them straight. I'm assuming you're quite poor?" Famain nodded. He didn't think she'd be so kind if she discovered why he was really there. "So you broke in here to get some food?" again Famain nodded. He tried to say something, but the words got caught in his throat. He didn't want to remain in there for much longer. "The boys do get squirrelly at times, particularly when they've had a lot of Skooma."

"Skooma?" spluttered Famain. Every thing was starting to add up.

"Yeah, the lilac bottles. Its strong stuff too. It can send them more than a little mad at times. I feel sorry for them at times, but it _is_ their own fault." She stopped as footsteps echoed up the stairs. The drunken Nord appeared at the door. Not only could Famain detect alcohol on him, he could also smell what Roxy had said was Skooma.

"Roxy," said the man, his voice very slurred "I need some more sweet stuff." Roxy rolled her eyes. She plunged her hand into the pouch that hung around her neck. She withdrew a Skooma bottle and chucked it to him. "Cheers." he mumbled. He yanked the stopper of the bottle with his teeth and downed it in one. Roxy shook her head.

"Stupid Reistr." she grumbled. He watched as Reistr the Nord chucked the now empty bottle on the floor. It clattered loudly and tumbled down the stairs. Sighing, she lapsed into silence. Famain fidgeted a little. What if the others found out what he knew and decided to kill him? He shuddered at the thought of the Khajiit J'zin Dar grabbing him by the neck and slitting his throat, his blood spilling onto the floor. More footsteps thudded up the stairs. Famain wondered if it was Reistr back for more Skooma, but this time it was R'vanni who stood in the doorway.

"Can I speak to the boy alone?" he asked. Roxy nodded. She gave an encouraging smile to Famain as she left. Famain tried to smile back, but couldn't. R'vanni took the seat Roxy had previously occupied. "So," he hissed "You think you've got me don't you child?" Famain tried to look confused, but R'vanni just laughed. "Don't play dumb, boy. I know you've been following me." Famain felt his heart go cold. This was it. He was done for. His thoughts must of shown on his face for R'vanni said "Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you." The Khajiit smiled at him, but not with the warmth Roxy gave him. It made him shiver as if he'd been plunged into an icy lake. "I won't kill you as long as you tell me who else knows. I don't need to know the information you have on me, I already know that. Just tell me who else was in on it." Famain shook with fear.

"My sister." he whispered hoarsely. R'vanni nodded.

"Anyone else?" he inquired. Famain shook his head.

"Good. And you'll make sure she won't say anything?"

"Yes." rasped Famain. R'vanni smiled, satisfied.

"I let you go as long as you promise not to utter a word about any of this to anyone ever again. I'll sort out the others in the den, but you make sure you don't speak of this again. Make sure you're sister doesn't either." Famain nodded once more. The Khajiit clapped his clawed hands together.

"Excellent!" he said with a toothy grin. "I don't have much to give you for all this but, perhaps this would suffice?" he withdrew a bottle of Skooma and pressed it into Famain's hand. He chuckled as Famain tucked it into his jerkin.

"Thank you." he stammered, despite being not at all grateful. He didn't want to be in possession of a substance like that! Famain got to his feet and stumbled towards the door, practically leaping down the stairs. The other addicts were waiting in their small living room. J'zin Dar sprung of his chair when Famain reached the bottom. He cracked his knuckles and advanced. A growl issued from behind him. R'vanni was glaring at J'zin Dar. The Khajiit glowered and sat back down. Famain felt relieved when he reached the door.

"Remember what I told you." R'vanni whispered in his ear. Famain nodded and opened the door. As soon as it shut he jumped off the platform and fell six feet to the ground below. Ignoring the pain in his left knee, Famain staggered into his house. He cast around. Ursanne hadn't come running into the living room, screaming. Anna hadn't bounded downstairs, asking what happened. Aleron wasn't sat in his chair. Famain began to panic, wondering if J'zin Dar had gone to the house and killed them all whilst he was talking to R'vanni. He ran into every room, but found no hint of a struggle, no blood, nothing. Crazed ideas of kidnap and torture filled his head. He peered into the now darkening street, desperate to find some sign of them. He was just about to fetch some guards when the door swung open. He jumped about a foot and was halfway up the stairs before realizing it was Aleron.

"Hello Famain!" greeted his father, waving at him. "Sorry I frightened you. You just missed dinner; we went to the Lonely Suitor. Anna said you weren't to well and you were asleep, so we didn't wake you. You feel any better?" Famain shook his head. Ursanne smiled at him sympathetically. Anna was behind her and was signaling frantically with her hands, her eyebrow raised.

"I think I'll go back to bed." he said, edging his way back up the stairs.

"I'll join you." said Anna innocently, following Famain upstairs. Ursanne eyed them suspiciously but let them leave without interrogation. Once their bedroom door was safely shut behind them, Famain launched into his story. Anna was a great audience; she gasped in all the right places and even let out a hushed scream. The only thing he didn't tell her about was R'vanni giving him a bottle of Skooma. "So he just let you go?" said Anna amazed.

"Yeah, he did. He made me promise not to tell a soul, and told me to make you promise too."

"You know I won't tell anyone anyway. I'll keep my mouth shut." Famain nodded in approval.

"Good. And don't let slip we know about Skooma either."

"I reckon it must be an illegal drug of some sort." said Anna thoughtfully. "I wonder what it does to you."

"Well, I think it makes you dizzy, judging from the way the addicts were moving. Roxy said it makes you a little weird." Famain absently picked at hole in his quilt as he thought about the addicts.

"Probably a little violent from what you've told me." Anna said. She yawned widely.

"I'm going to bed, it's about one now." Without further ado, Anna kicked back the covers and was soon snoring loudly. Once Famain was sure she was asleep, he slipped the small bottle of Skooma out of his jerkin. He climbed off his bed and knelt on the floor and began to search under his bed. After a few minutes of rummaging, his hand closed on a small wooden box. He dragged it out, and stuck his hand under his mattress. He withdrew it, his fingers clasped on a bronze key. He shoved it into the box's lock. It clicked open and he swung the lid off. Inside lay many little trinkets he had gathered over the years from his adventures or other items he had acquired by various means. A battered silver locket lay nestled between a lesser soul gem and a small ruby. Aleron's gold ring was placed inside a bronze goblet with the Avatar of Akatosh engraved on it. There were several other pieces of jewelry inside the box including a scratched topaz amulet and a magical ring of healing. Famain placed the Skooma beside the goblet. He was about to close the box when something caught his eye; a silver ring with a black stone set into it. He removed the ring and looked at it for some time. Ursanne had told him she found the ring with him when she found him bundled up on her doorstep. It was engraved with some daedric runes, carved around the band of it. He had once taken it to the chapel to be translated. A priest called Chana Mona had told him that the engravings could be read as Ziaha or "Dawn's Hope". His foster parents had always said, and he agreed with them, that this was probably his mother's name. He admired the ring for a several more minutes then placed it carefully back inside the box. He shut it and shoved it back under the bed. Famain carefully place the key under his mattress. He lay back on his bed and from the moment the moment the pillow touched his head, he fell asleep. When he woke the next morning, He had completely forgotten the ring and the Skooma.


	6. Five

Five

Almost eight years pass without much change in Bravil. The events which occurred all that time ago were long since forgotten, and were only brought up when one had little else to discuss. Life had moved on for the majority of the residents and this was only too true for Famain. Raucous laughter could be heard through the streets as he and his gang paraded round, drinking and causing havoc. Famain was just a month shy of his eighteenth birthday, and, despite his youth, was already quite sought after as a husband. He was a renowned hunter and may wild rumors circulated about him, including ones that stated that he'd wrestled bears to the ground with his bare hands. All this had gained him many followers, men keen to bask in his glory or women seeking companionship. He had three close friends which he spent most of his time with, two guys and a girl, a Nord, Khajiit and Redguard respectively. The eldest was the Khajiit, Dar'yiin. He was infamous for being an expert acrobat, jumping silently into an open window, removing valuables then quickly exiting, all within a minute. He was admired by beggars and thieves, as he had never been caught, not once. He was midnight black with dark green eyes which helped him escape as he blended in so well with the night sky. The nineteen year old Nord was the second eldest. He was a giant of a man; he always had to duck to get into a building, and had to remain bent so that his head didn't collide with the ceiling. His name reflected his height; Thorniv the Mountain. The youngest by quite a few years was the Redguard Nanine. At just fifteen, she was regarded as the most beautiful woman in all of Cyrodiil. She had long ebony hair that reached the floor that she often tied in a plat. He periwinkle eyes held many secrets. It was a well known fact that Nanine was also accomplished in the art of enchantment. She was not a person to be taken for granted, for her power was immense. She had the ability to weave powerful spells on people. She could easily charm a man who saw her as 'just a woman' to slaughter his entire family without realizing. Famain had known her for a few years and had known from the second he'd met her she was not someone to be trifled with. He watched her and the two young men as they laughed heartily at the joke Thorniv had told them.

"Fam!" cried Thorniv, staggering with drunkenness, "What's up with choo? You're a wee bit quiet today aren't you?" he hiccupped, wine spilling onto Nanine from the bottle that he was holding.

"Oi!" she shouted, pushing him in vain, "I just bought this top! Cost me a fortune!" Famain chuckled as she carried on shoving him. Thorniv didn't seem to notice.

"What's that you've got Dar'yiin?" he boomed. He tried to grab something that the Khajiit had in his hand, but missed and landed with a tremendous crash onto a basket, squashing it flat. Dar'yiin sniggered at Thorniv as he struggled to his feet.

"A little something I swiped from the court this morning." He showed them a beautiful silver amulet with a ruby set in the centre. He swung it back and forth. Thorniv watched it swing, his eyes bleary, his body swaying. A few moments later he keeled over in a dead faint. Dar'yiin roared with laughter. "I forgot to tell him it was an enchanted hypnosis medallion!" he said through bouts of laughter. After a minute Thorniv awoke, shaking his head. He stumbled to his feet, picking up the wine bottle. He tipped it towards his mouth, but only a trickle came out. Groaning, he tossed the empty bottle against the wall where it shattered. He walked towards a barrel on the corner of the street. Plunging his hand into it, he withdrew a burgundy bottle.

"Ah, the best stuff there is in all of Tamriel!" he exclaimed. He tore the stopper off with his teeth and took a tremendous glug. "That's the ticket!" he said, swaying once more. "You 'ave some Fam!" he pressed the bottle into Famain's hands. He studied it carefully, squinting in the moon light. A bright red label red _Aunt Ann's Greatest Fire Whisky_. "Strong stuff tha' is." said Thorniv. "Probably the bes' drink crea'ed by Nords. Puts fire in you're belly it does." Famain shrugged and took a swig. Coughing and spluttering, Famain handed it back to Thorniv. It felt as though he had just swallowed white hot embers. "I did warn you." said the Nord, snorting at Famain's reddening face.

"You're not gonna leave me out now, are you?" asked Dar'yiin, snatching the bottle from Thorniv. He took a large gulp. His face contorted and he sprayed the whisky out all over Famain. "That's bloody awful!" he said, handing it back to the giant in disgust.

"What do you kno' about good drink?" roared Thorniv. "What good stuff has your lot come up with, eh?"

"Sweet, sweet Skooma" replied Dar'yiin blissfully.

"I guess Skooma is OK, but it's not that good!" Nanine rolled her eyes as the pair began a huge debate over which was better.

"I don't believe them sometimes." muttered Nanine to Famain. Famain nodded.

"They argue like a married couple, don't they?" he whispered. The enchantress giggled. Sunlight was beginning to trickle into the town. Famain swore loudly.

"What's up?" asked Nanine as Famain clapped his hand to his head.

"Anna!" he said, grimacing. "She'll go ballistic when she realizes I've been gone all night!"

"That bloody sister of yours is starting to get on my nerves." muttered Nanine, wringing her hands. "Always poking her nose into your business." she sighed.

"I bet Ursanne told her to keep an eye on me." Famain grumbled. He waved goodbye to Nanine (Dar'yiin and Thorniv were still too busy arguing) and began walking briskly towards the chapel. He yanked the doors open and hurried downstairs and into the hall. As silently as he could, Famain crept through the study room and into the sleeping quarters. Loud snores were issuing from the beds were the male priests slept. He had almost made it to his bed when a small cough came from behind him. Famain bit his lip and slowly turned around. Stood in the doorway, already dressed, was Anna. She was glaring at him like a hawk. She gradually approached him, hands on her hips.

"Well," she said coldly.

"Well what?" Famain said, trying to look innocent.

"Where have you been?" Anna was considerably shorter than Famain, but her anger still made him cower.

"Nowhere…" Famain started to edge away from her.

"Has living in a chapel taught you no respect for others?" she asked menacingly. "You are blatantly disregarding the rules of the Great Chapel of Mara! Cur-few is 9:00 pm, you _know _that!" Famain shuffled uncomfortably.

"But I'm not part of the church! I'm not an intellect, priest, monk or anything like that!" Anna's eyes flashed angrily.

"But you live under this holy roof; therefore you must abide by the rules! The others a sick of you're disobedience. You are only here because I have persuaded the others not to kick you out! There will come a time where their patience will wear thin, and I will no longer be able to vouch for you. You will be cast out onto the streets and you will have to find someone else willing to take you in!" She stormed off, her brown hair bouncing of her shoulders. Famain sighed and collapsed onto his bed. It wasn't as though Famain _liked_ living in the chapel. He despised all its strict rules. He had actually got off quite lightly compared to the others who lived here; at least he didn't have to pray for twelve hours a day. He had been forced to live in the chapel when Aleron had died. Anna was already there, working as intellect and healer. Because she was too old to work, Ursanne had gone to live with relatives in the Imperial City. Famain wasn't best pleased when he found out he couldn't accompany her. When the house was sold, he could see no other option but to join Anna and live among the religious. Famain settled down and was just getting off to sleep when he felt someone shaking him awake.

"What?" cried Famain irritably. He pulled the covers off and found himself staring into the face of the elderly Breton priest, Aaron.

"Get up, you ungrateful boy!" he growled, pulling him to his feet. "It is time for the morning prayer!" Famain rolled his eyes as the priest hobbled away with his walking stick. Full of resentment, Famain followed Aaron into study area. Assembled around a small alter were all the religious followers. As they entered, several turned around. He got many glares off of them. Angry mutters followed him as he knelt down beside Anna, who threw him a dirty look. Marz, an Argonian healer scowled at Famain and began to mutter rapidly to the monk sat beside her, throwing a furious look at him every so often. Famain tried to ignore her. The monk looked at him questioningly and he smiled awkwardly at him.

"Don't try to look so innocent!" hissed Marz "We all know it was _you_ and your good-for-nothing friends who set fire to _my _alchemy chest!" She stared pointedly away from Famain. He was about to retaliate when a loud cough issued from the front of the assembly. Aaron was stood on the steps of the alter, staring suspiciously at Famain. He cleared his throat and addressed them.

"Welcome my fellows!" he said, opening his arms as if to embrace them all. "Welcome all those who reside here in the Great Chapel of Mara, and to all those who have made the time to visit Bravil's place of worship! We shall begin by reciting the words of Mara on page one thousand, chapter 69…" As the congregation droned on and on about what Mara wanted them to do, Famain slumped into his usual stupor, dreaming about what he could be having for breakfast and what he'd be doing after. "FAMAIN!" bellowed Aaron. Famain jolted awake as the wheezy voice reached his ears.

"W-what?" he asked stupidly, rubbing his eyes.

"Please recite clause seventy two of page one hundred and fourteen." said Aaron, sighing. Famain flicked through his book of _The Benevolence of Mara_, to much tutting and shaking of heads. At last he found page one hundred and twelve, but to his horror there was no one hundred and fourteen. He heard a snigger to his left and saw Marz scattering what remained of his page onto a fire she had cast on her hand. He felt like punching her, but managed to control himself.

"It seems I have no page one hundred and fourteen." he said politely.

"Dear, dear, have you been disrespecting the property of the chapel? That's six hours of solitary prayer to Mara, to ask for forgiveness for defacing her holy book." said Aaron, smirking. Famain knew that he was trying to get at him. He even dared to speculate that he and Marz had come up with this plot.

"Fine!" said Famain, slamming his book shut. "Have it you're way. I don't even know why I put up with you and you're stupid regimes!" He tossed the book at Marz who screeched as it hit her on the head.

"How_ dare_ you commit such acts of violence under this holy roof!" Aaron yelled, pointed accusingly at Famain. "Out! And may you never be welcome in this place of worship again! Get your stuff and never RETURN!" Famain stormed out of the room and into his sleeping quarters. It took him less than a minute to pack his stuff into his trunk and drag up the stairs. Aaron and most of the others glared at him as he strode across the threshold. Anna was staring at him, her eyes wide with shock. On his way out he 'accidentally' brushed against a brass candelabrum which toppled onto a set of weighing scales and finally onto some pieces of parchment covered in information that the intellects had written down. Gasps of horror echoed behind Famain as precious gems cascaded onto the floor and down the drains and the parchment caught fire. He threw open the hall doors and carried his trunk up the flight of stairs to the main chapel room. To his surprise, Nanine and Dar'yiin were stood waiting at the top.

"We came here to see if you'd managed to escape." said Dar'yiin. "What's that for?" he was pointing at the large trunk beside Famain.

"I've 'left the congregation' so to speak." he said, smiling.

"In other words, they've booted you out." asked Nanine. Famain nodded and Dar'yiin bust out laughing, patting Famain heartily on the back.

"Good one, mate!" he said, gasping for breath. "Did you leave with a bang?" at that moment more screams and shouts erupted from the study hall.

"You could say that." A large boom made him turn around. The study hall door swung open, revealing several angry members of the congregation, including a furious-looking Aaron, whose robes were singed and still smoldering slightly at the hem.

"FAMAIN!" he roared. He and his companions edged towards them like hungry zombies, their eyes darting furiously.

"Run." Famain said simply. He, Nanine and Dar'yiin pelted out of the chapel as fast as they could and began to wind their way through the streets of Bravil. It was only when they were on the other side of the town did they stop, gasping for breath and in fits of laughter. At that moment, Famain didn't care that he had no-where to live. That was possibly the best day of his life. Or it would have been…


	7. Six

Six

Grinning, Famain watched Nanine and Dar'yiin gasping with breathless laughter as the tried desperately to control themselves.

"Did you see his face?" asked Dar'yiin, his voice hoarse from minutes of constant laughter. "He looked as if he was going to explode!" Nanine whacked the floor with her fist, her other hand clutching a stitch in her side. She wiped away a few tears of laughter, coughed, then sighed.

"Well, what are you going to do now?" she asked, looking at Famain. The grin slid of his face.

"Um, well I really don't know." he said, biting his lip. Now that the thrill of winding up Aaron was over, reality was beginning to sink in.

"Don't worry yourself about it too much!" said Dar'yiin. Every one of his fanged teeth was showing as his face split into a broad grin. Famain smiled back, but not as quite as happily as before. He didn't really fancy living on the street. His thoughts, however, were interrupted by angry shouts. The three of them peered around the corner. Thorniv had just staggered out of the Silverhome on the Water. He was arguing furiously with the owner of the inn, Gilgondorin. Thorniv's girlfriend, Helen the Swift, was standing beside him, glaring at the pair of them.

"I didn't do nothin'!" he bellowed. He was still clutching a full tankard, which had soaked both Helen and Gilgondorin.

"You are disrupting the peaceful atmosphere of my pub!" said the Altmer coolly. His tone was calm but Famain could see his face reddening every second that went by.

"Why should I go?" Thorniv growled, throwing the tankard's contents at the owner. Unfortunately, his aim was less than accurate and most of it hit Helen, drenching her to the bone.

"You idiot!" she shouted. She stormed towards him and slapped him hard across the face. Famain saw Dar'yiin bite his lip hard to stop himself from laughing.

"OI!" he shouted after Helen, who was striding away. "Come back!" He made to chase after, but slipped on the sodden grass and fell backwards, flattening Gilgondorin. At this point Dar'yiin failed to control himself and began to laugh raucously as the Nord and the Altmer attempted to disentangle themselves.

"Go, now." said Gilgondorin who was clutching his ribs. He gave him a ferocious look and Thorniv didn't need telling twice. He meandered tipsily towards Famain and the others.

"Shut up," he grunted, pushing Dar'yiin who had lapsed into a silent fit of giggles.

"Looks as if him and Helen have fallen out _again_." said Nanine, shaking her head. Famain sighed.

"You know they'll make up, they always do." Indeed what he said was true. On a good week they would split up at least twice. Dar'yiin seemed to have finally composed himself. He coughed a couple of times, bringing up a hair ball.

"That is gross!" said Nanine exasperatedly as he tossed it to one side. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. At that moment Thorniv toppled over in his drunkenness and landed in a barrel of water. It took all three of them to haul his torso out of it.

"I think we best get him home." said Famain. Nanine grabbed Thorniv's feet, Dar'yiin ducked under his unconscious body and heaved his upper body onto his shoulders and Famain took hold of his friend's arms. Together in a sort of bizarre procession, they made their way through the town, past the Luck Old Lady statue, across the bridge, stopping outside a rather run-down little hovel.

"Here," said Nanine, tossing Famain and rusty, iron key. He shoved it in the lock and turned; the door swung open and a horrible stench reached their noses. Bottles littered the floor and counters. Dirty dishes were stacked high by the sink. Moldy bread and cheese were laid on the table.

"Does he _ever_ clean up this place?" asked Dar'yiin, pinching his nose. "I know he doesn't come here a lot, but you'd think he'd at least try to straighten things up a bit!" Famain rolled his eyes. Dar'yiin was a complete and utter neat freak, even though you wouldn't be able to tell this by the way he dressed. Sure enough, the Khajiit strode into the threshold (leaving Famain and Nanine to struggle with Thorniv's unconscious form) and immediately began to tidy up. Staggering under his weight, Nanine and Famain followed Dar'yiin in and laid Thorniv on the sofa, where he began to snore loudly.

"He'll come to in a bit." muttered Famain. He collapsed onto one of the wooden chairs that stood next to the fireplace.

"Give us a hand, Nanine!" called Dar'yiin from behind a tottering tower of dishes. Reluctantly, she trudged over to the sink and began the tedious chore that is dishwashing. Famain sighed as he stretched his aching limbs. Unfortunately, his rest was short-lived. Dar'yiin was on the war path, determined to purge the house of all things dirty. To Famain, this seemed an impossible task. So far he'd scrubbed the table, cleaned the bathroom, (which was thoroughly unpleasant with its numerous buckets that were incrusted with vomit) emptied the cupboards and had even dared venture into Thorniv's basement. The place was infested with rats, which he had left Dar'yiin to deal with. He voiced his thoughts as he and Nanine scrubbed in vain at Thorniv's woven rug.

"I think he's trying to kill us. Those rats were so big, they could have bitten my leg of easy!" muttered Famain angrily as he tried to remove a particularly stubborn stain for the umpteenth time.

"I'll bloody kill him if he makes us do much more!" snarled Nanine as she threw her sodden cloth at the rug. "He's had us doing this for over six hours! I'm starving _and_ I'm absolutely drenched!" She looked down at her beautifully embroided top which was so wet that it had changed colour from pink to blood red. At that moment, the bedroom door swung open revealing a very happy Dar'yiin.

"I've finished removing the bats from the wardrobes, the rats in the basement are gone and the curtains are fixed!" he looked down at the two of them, his eyes wide. "Is this all you've done since I left? Come on, we've got lots more to do yet!" Nanine scowled at Dar'yiin as he bounded off, happy as could be, to remove more cob webs.

"One of these days…" she grumbled.

It was almost six 'o' clock by the time they'd finished. The house was spotless, not a single thing was out of place. Nanine was still muttering furiously about having to 'work like a slave'. An hour or two later, Thorniv finally came round.

"Wha'-wha'?" he asked stupidly, sitting bolt upright and flailing his fists about. Dar'yiin rolled his eyes and whacked him hard on the back of the head. Thorniv shook himself and asked deliriously "Where am I?"

"Your house." said Nanine slowly, as if talking to a three-year-old. Her tone was impatient. Famain could tell she was still fuming. A loud bang made all four of them jump. Thorniv leapt to his feet and began swearing loudly. It took all three of them to wrestle him back onto the sofa.

"Thorniv, if you're lying on that blasted sofa drinking, I swear I won't take you back!" came Helen's angry voice from behind the door. Famain walked over to it and pulled it open. "I swear I'll-"she stopped mid-sentence. Her eyes lit up. She squealed shrilly, ignoring Nanine, Dar'yiin and Famain and rushed over to Thorniv. "Did you do all this for me?" she shrieked, bouncing up and down.

"Yeah." mumbled Thorniv, giving her a lopsided grin. Nanine glowered at Thorniv as Helen leapt into his arms.

"So he takes all the credit when all he really did was lie on a sofa, drunk as could be?" She cracked her knuckles.

"Easy Nanine, easy." muttered Famain, guiding her outside. Dar'yiin quickly followed.

"Ugh, they are gross sometimes." whispered Dar'yiin shutting the door behind him. "Maybe cleaning the house _wasn't_ such a bright idea. I was hoping for them to stay split up this time."

"You think?" hissed Nanine, her eyes flashing furiously. Famain thought it might be a good time to change subject.

"So," he said quickly, trying to distract Nanine, "What _am_ I going to do now that I've been ousted by said chapel folk?" this question had the desired affect. Nanine's brow furrowed, as she thought hard about all possibilities. It was Dar'yiin however, who came up with the solution.

"I've got it!" he said loudly, making all the patrolling guards stop and look. He quickly lowered his voice.

"How about the old abandoned house?" he whispered. "Hardly anyone uses it. It would be alright to live in for now, until you find somewhere better." Famain considered this. Memories of his childhood bubbled to the surface; his and Anna's search for the murderer… their adventure into the undercroft… his confrontation with the addicts…the Skooma bottle…all this flood back.

"It was used as a Skooma den though, wasn't it?"

"It was." agreed Dar'yiin. "But they went out of business long ago. Most of them are probably dead by now of an overdose or something. Come on, what of you got to loose?"

"Okay." said Famain, shrugging. Dar'yiin clapped his hands happily and rushed of to get Famain's trunk. Meanwhile, Nanine and Famain made their way to the house. They climbed the rotting stairs to the top, where they came face to face with a dilemma; the door was boarded shut. "Now what?" asked Famain hopelessly. He wasn't very keen on the idea of sleeping in an old drug den, but it would be at least a bit better than the street.

"Stand back." commanded Nanine. Famain quickly edged down the stairs. He watched in awe as she muttered a spell which blew the boards into the street. "I have dabbled in destruction too." she said simply, opening the door. The interior was as derelict as it had been when he had first entered the building all those years ago. Empty Skooma bottles littered the floor and still the old order forms lay in heaps on the table, their writing smudged and faded. The place had accumulated more dust though; little clouds rose with every step they took. Nanine frowned slightly. "Not all that nice is it?" she shifted a heap of parchment off of a three-legged stool and sat down. Heavy clunks a few minutes later announced the arrival of Dar'yiin"

"Phew!" he panted as he dragged Famain's trunk into the living area. "Famain, when you go back down, you'll have to jump about ten stairs." He looked around the gloomy area with distaste. He rolled up his sleeves. "This place could do with a tidy up-"

"NO!" shouted both Famain and Nanine, horror etched on both faces.

"It's fine Dar'yiin, really." said Famain. The very thought of more tidying made him feel sick. "I'll live."

"Okay, whatever you say." he said, sitting down on a wooden bench shoved up against the wall. "I'll help you unpack." he got back to his feet and began to root around in Famain's trunk.

"What's this?" asked Dar'yiin. He withdrew a small wooden box from the trunk, along with a bronze key.

"Oh, just stuff I found when I was a kid." he said offhandedly. Dar'yiin opened it and began to examine all the little trinkets. "Most of its rubbish, but there is some good stuff in their. He knelt beside Dar'yiin, who was looking at each piece with great interest. "I found that silver locket at the bottom of the Larsius River and I got the Akatosh Goblet from inside a flooded cave. That ring with the ruby in it is from inside a well, the jade amulet was on a bandit I killed, and so was the silver dagger…"

"Ooo!" said Nanine suddenly. "Where did you get that?" she was pointing at the black-stoned ring.

"Ursanne found me with that when she saw me on her doorstep-" A gasp from Dar'yiin stopped him once more.

"Skooma!" he exclaimed, hopping up and down. "Sweet, sweet Skooma! May I?" he asked imploringly. Famain nodded and he took a glug. "Ahh, what satisfaction! Why don't you have some?" he handed the bottle to Famain. Shrugging, he took it off him. He smelt the same dizzying smell once more. Something inside him urged him not to drink. Throwing caution to the winds, he took a sip. Immediately, the world around him started to spin. Nanine's panic-stricken voice seemed far away. His vision blurred and soon he was falling into a blanket of darkness.

_He was stood inside the Bravil graveyard. The summer sun beat hard on the back of his neck. Beside him, Anna was knelt by a tombstone, laying flowers in front of it. The grave was that was Aleron's. As Anna stood up, Famain could see her face glistened with tears._

"_He's gone." she muttered solemnly. "I can't believe it." Famain put a hand on her shoulder. "I've lost him, Famain. I'm loosing you too…" He looked at her with confusion. _

"_What do you mean?" he asked. She shook her head sadly._

"_You've changed so much lately. You're friends influence you to do things you would never usually do. I've told you this before, but you don't listen. They're the wrong crowd. They'll lead you astray!" Famain felt anger welling up inside him. How dare she insult his friends?_

"_I haven't changed at all!" he said furiously "It's you! Since you joined the chapel you're so…strict and boring. You're the one who's changed!" she shook her head again._

"_Listen Famain, listen. I have seen things-"_

"_Shut up!" he cried. "You do this all the time! You and you're stupid prophecies!" In his anger, he kicked his father's grave. Anna gasped in horror._

"_How DARE you!" she screamed. "How DARE you disrespect your own father!"_

"_He's NOT my father!" he bellowed in blind rage. "And you're not my sister…"_

"Famain? Famain, can you hear me?" some one was tapping him on the head. His eyes snapped open. Dar'yiin's and Nanine's worried faces swam before him. His head pounded with much pain. He clasped his forehead, groaning.

"That Skooma was old. It becomes very strong when it is old." said Dar'yiin. "It's even worse when it's your first time, and if you are not a Khajiit. It doesn't affect us as badly." Famain tried to nod, but it hurt too much.

"Did you pass out when you had some?" Famain asked Nanine.

"I didn't have any; Dar'yiin said it would have had the same affect on me. Your reaction wasn't too bad though. You've only been out about five minutes." Famain attempted to nod once more. As he did so, a wave of sickness caught him and he began to retch.

"Best get you some fresh air." said Dar'yiin, helping him to his feet. He staggered upright. Nanine opened the door, and as he breathed in the cool night air, he felt better, but still dazed. Nanine suddenly swore. Famain looked at her curiously, but soon all his questions were answered; a guard stood before them, a smug expression on his face.

"Stop, law breakers! You are trespassing in a restricted area!" he sniffed Famain's breath. "It also seems you have been taking the illegal substance Skooma! Pay the fine, serve your time or fight until death. The choice is yours."


	8. Seven

Seven

The three of them stood stock still, staring at the guard. There was no way they were going to get out of this. Dar'yiin was still clutching the half empty bottle of Skooma.

"Well, what's it gonna be, eh?" said the guard impatiently. He was fingering the sword in his belt, as if he wanted them to choose the latter. Ideas whirred around his head. His mind seemed clogged and foggy. Maybe this was an after-effect of the Skooma? What he did next shocked everyone in the vicinity. He backed into the den and began to fumble around inside his trinket box.

"What are you doing?" asked the guard, advancing. Famain felt his hand close on the black-stoned ring. He slipped it on and rummaged some more, his hands still behind his back. Finally, he found what he was searching for.

"Oi, step away from that box!" yelled the guard. He reached for his sword, but Famain was too quick for him. With a flash of silver, the guard lay crumpled on the floor, clutching his badly bleeding face. The silver dagger in Famain's hand was stained red; the blood trickled gently down his arm. Nanine and Dar'yiin gazed on in horror from the doorway. Famain sprinted for the door, pushing aside his friends. He jumped down the stairs, two at a time. Unfortunately, he didn't see the gap Dar'yiin had made with the trunk, and fell several feet onto a stack of barrels with a tremendous crash. Staggering to his feet, he waved his dagger around wildly. Guards shouted things at him he couldn't hear. Everything seemed fuzzy. What was happening to him? He felt an iron hand close on his arm. Suddenly pain shot through his knuckles as his fist collided with and iron head. He ignored the fact that he had probably broken them and bent over the now motionless guard. He tugged his sword from his belt and placed it in his own. Two more guards raced towards him. In a flurry of blows, both lay motionless next to their companion. Screams from the townsfolk issued everywhere. Clunking iron announced the arrival of more guards. Without a second thought, Famain tore off down the street. Last time he'd run down here, he had been laughing his head off, completely carefree. Now he was running from the law, and for his life. Arrows whistled past him, many missing by just a hair's breadth. Shouts for reinforcements rang through his head. He stopped abruptly, causing several guards to crash into him, knocking him to the ground. He didn't tarry for a moment. Leaping back up, he ran off in the opposite direction, pushing all of the stunned and confused guards to the ground. He felt some one grab his ankle and haul him to the floor.

"Gotcha!" cried a voice behind him. Famain looked over his shoulder to see a massive imperial man grinning maliciously, his saucepan-like hands fastened tightly around Famain's leg. In a moment of panic, he slashed the sword at the guard. The tip of the blade caught his throat. The guard gagged as blood poured from his throat. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. His hand became limp.

"MURDER!" roared several guards. They frantically tried to reach Famain, but tripped over their comrades who were still laid on the floor. Famain's heart beat ferociously in his chest. He weaved in and out of the houses nearby. The tailing guard's footsteps became quieter. When he saw no one was pursuing him, he dived through the great arched doors that belonged to The Great Chapel of Mara. The hall was empty except for one solitary figure clad in a brown robe. They were praying by the alter; their voice wavered, as though they were upset. As Famain approached, he recognized the person-it was Anna. She had obviously heard his footsteps because she turned around. She gaped at Famain in horror as her eyes gazed upon his blood-stained sword and clothes.

"What hap-" she began, but at that moment, the door burst open; twenty or so guards poured in. One of them spotted Famain beside the alter.

"SIEZE HIM!" he cried. Anna looked between the guards and Famain, utter shock etched on her face, her mouth gaping. He tried to say something comforting to her, but at that moment, a sword whooshed down beside him, narrowly missing his ear. He scarpered, quick, not daring to look back. By some miracle, he managed to get out of the chapel in one piece. He crept down a back-alley, where good-fortune met him; a hooded cloak lay discarded on the floor. Tugging it on, Famain headed towards the gate. It was nearing eleven. If he could slip out of the town without anyone seeing…He put up his hood and stared at the floor, to ensure no one could see his face, and just in time. Two burly young guards clomped towards him, their armor banging loudly.

"You seen a lad, about eighteen, pretty muscley. He's a Redguard, you know, curly hair, dark skin? Has gold eyes?" asked one. Famain shook his head.

"No." he said in his gruffest, deepest voice he could manage. "No, I haven't." The guards groaned.

"You be careful." sighed one of them. "He's a _murderer_." Soon their footsteps faded away. Famain let out a sigh of relief and continued on his way. The gate was within his sight. As he reached them, he took a double-take. _Murderer_. That was what he had become. The very thought chilled his bones. He hadn't meant it, he'd panicked! But it wouldn't make any difference. Anna would tell Ursanne about what he had done. The consequences didn't bare thinking about. His breathing quickened as he opened the gate, the horrible thoughts still chasing each other around and around. He practically ran past the guards, his heart drumming in his ears. Any second, he expected an arrow to thud between his shoulder blades, a sword to sink into his back. He only breathed calmly once he'd reached the cover of the forest. The thought of staying in there for the night was even worse than the one of sleeping in the streets. It was alright in the day, when you could see where you were going and what was around you, but at night…the possibility of being attacked by some sinister creature was off the scale. All sorts lived in there: wolves, bears and not to forget mud crabs. But there were also mythical beasts too like trolls, goblins, spriggans, willow-o-the-wisps and not to mention the twenty foot ogres. Famain shuddered slightly as he made his way through the forest. He jumped at every small sound, drew his sword at the breaking of any twig. Guilt and fright pulsed through his veins. What was he going to do? He'd murdered a man! He was an exile. He knew of bandits similar people who lived by killing. They might take him in, but he didn't think he'd be able to stand a life of murder. The Dark Brotherhood were probably his only other option, but they were so enveloped with mystery, he thought that would be the one group he'd most certainly avoid. They were even worse than the bandits. They worshiped death, the evil Sithis and his wife, The Night Mother. No guild would take him other than them though. Even the Thieves Guild despised murderers. He might stand a chance if he moved to a far off city like Bruma or Anvil, as they might not receive information of his murder. Otherwise it was join the two murderous groups, or live alone in the vast forests of Cyrodiil. He considered everything for a long time. The safest area he could live in was probably the gold coast region. This was the most tranquil of the areas, with fewer monsters lurking around. He might be able to survive by staying in the small hamlets and inns that lined the roads. He sighed sadly. All this would mean forfeiting any friends he had or would make. He knew that having friends whilst on the run wasn't the best of ideas. Neither was sticking to the roads, for he was bound to bump into a patrolling guard sometime. While he had been thinking, his feet had carried him to the banks of the Niben Bay. He stooped and washed his face in the water. It helped clear his head. It suddenly struck him that he would have a bounty much higher than 1000 gold. He remembered that you were given bounty for assault too. This worried him even more. A bounty of 2000 gold or more would mean that guards would attack him on sight. He began to bite his nails in his anxiousness. What options did he have left? Other than joining other murderers or living in the forests, there were only two other possibilities that had just sprung to his mind: change identity or leave Cyrodiil. The latter of the two was ridiculous. Guards patrolled the borders of each province, meaning he would either be caught for his crimes, or if they didn't know, sent back because he didn't have a permit. Even if he _did_ somehow sneak across, he would be staying there illegally and in no better situation than he was before. The borders to Morrowind were mainly unguarded, but it was so dangerous there the guards hadn't bothered; thinking no one in their right-mind would want to venture into it. And they were right. It was in a current state of turmoil. Both mainland Morrowind and Vvardenfell were in the middle of a revolt, as the Houses fought among each other. Solstheim, its neighboring Nord-inhabited island was peaceful, but the prospect getting across all of Vvardenfell to reach it without being killed was slim. Famain stared at his reflection. If he planned on living a relatively peaceful life, he would _have_ to change identity. It was the only way. He remembered something Nanine had once told him. Her mother was a member of the mages guild, and as Nanine was so interested in mage craft, she often told her all the goings ons in the guild. He remembered Nanine's expression as she told him that there was a mage/wizard even more powerful than the Arch-Mage Traven himself, living in Cyrodiil. She had said that this man lived in some wizard's tower known as Frostcrag Spire, and that he was so powerful, he could concoct any potion you wanted, create any spell you needed, enchant any item with anything.

This wizard was the man he needed.


	9. Eight

Eight

The journey to Frostcrag Spire was long and tedious. Famain knew the rough location of the tower, but was unsure where it was exactly. He had to stay a bit of the roads to avoid guards and travelers who may have heard of his crimes. He had several close shaves, where horse-back guards spotted him and pursued him, but most of his journey north was uneventful. Other than a couple of bandits and wolves (which he easily defeated), little happened. He grinned with relief as he reached the top of a huge hill. The city of Bruma greeted him, its wooden walls reaching into the skies. The snow-topped mountains loomed all around. Amongst them lay his destination. Famain approached the city cautiously. It may be far from Bravil, but he wasn't taking any chances. He tried to walk as calmly to the gate as possible. Fortunately, the guards merely smiled and opened the gates to let him enter. His breathing calmed as he began down the cobblestone path. He examined all the buildings carefully. Someone here would know where Frostcrag Spire is. He remembered Nanine saying it was near Bruma, but he didn't fancy scouting the mountains for several months until he found it. Famain frowned. Thinking about his friends hurt. He hadn't seen them in about a month. Thinking of Anna hurt more. What would she think of him now? He wished he hadn't always argued with her about his friends. She was trying to help him. He should have listened.

"What 'choo lookin' for laddy?" came the familiar Nord accent. A broad, middle-aged man was looming over him. His face was wrinkled in a kindly grin. Famain nearly choked on the strong scent of the Nord mead.

"Um, the Mages Guild." he said, trying to smile without vomiting from the horrible smell. It was sickeningly sweet, a little like the Skooma. The man's smile faulted a little.

"It's down tha' alley. But don' expect a warm welcome. They're havin' a bit 'o' trouble." Famain smiled in thanks at him and hurried down the street. He came to a rather scabby building. The unmistakable Mages Guild sign hung above it, its paint chipped and faded. Tentatively, Famain opened the door. Angry voices engulfed him immediately. Three mages were arguing whilst the room around them seemed to trash itself. Books flew of the shelves, causing other mages to duck and hurry out of the way. Alchemy ingredients caught fire, scorching tables. Chair legs snapped off as tired mages sat down. Clothes hung eerily in the air, grabbing hold of anyone who passed them. One of the arguing mages stopped her rant and turned to him. Her face was lined and wrinkled, her mouth thin and in a constant frown.

"Who are you?" she snapped, glaring at him. "As you can see, we are quite busy at the moment. If you want to join the guild, go to a different town." she turned away and continued her argument with a tall Altmer man. "See here, Volanaro," she squawked "There is no way we are going to get rid of that bloody poltergeist without calling on the Arcane University! Only master-wizards and the arch-mage himself would be able to find a spell strong enough to get rid of it!"

"I'm sure we'll be able to find a way without bothering Traven." the man named Volanaro replied coolly. "He's already fed up with Jeanne bugging him every five minutes; he doesn't need you sending him messages about petty problems too." The woman glared at him. A young Breton woman stared at the Altmer, her face red with fury.

"I am NOT constantly bothering Traven!" she exclaimed, standing on tip-toes to meet his eyes. Volanaro raised his eyebrows. Famain watched the Breton's face contort. She looked as if she were about to curse him, but stormed off instead.

"Well done." said the old woman sarcastically. "That was the last thing we needed; Jeanne having one of her little tantrums!" She turned towards the door. Her eyes narrowed even more when she saw Famain was still there. "Didn't I tell you to leave all ready?" she snarled. "Unless you happen to be a master-wizard or an expert of the blade, would you be so kind as to retrace your steps back out the door?" She tapped her foot impatiently.

"Umm, well…" mumbled Famain, trying to think how to phrase his next sentence.

"Hurry up, boy, I haven't got all day!" spat the old mage. Her brown eyes studied him with distaste.

"I think I _might_ be able to help you." said Famain cautiously. The lady rolled her eyes and tutted.

"I'm assuming you're one of these fool-hardy adventurer types, looting any fort you come across and swinging a sword everywhere in hope that you'll hit whatever beast is attacking you. Well I'm sorry, but I don't think that will help our predicament-"

"_Actually,"_ Famain said loudly, his brain whirring as he tried to think of some liable story. "I'm a member of the Imperial Guard. I train newcomers in the art of armed-combat." He felt sweat pouring down his face. He hoped it was convincing enough. If he wanted to find the wizard at Frostcrag Spire, he would need all the information he could get. And it seemed that sorting out their poltergeist problem would be the way to obtain it.

"Really?" said the mage, her eyes gleaming with genuine interest. "Then you may be able to help after all. Follow me." she turned on heel and creaked her way through the ruined guild-house. From below them, Famain could hear the shattering of glass and the tinkling of breaking pottery.

"Bloody things wrecking the quarters now…" mumbled the old mage angrily. She descended a flight of stairs and pushed open the wooden door at the bottom. Famain had to duck as a flying plate soared at his head. It missed him by a hairs breadth and shattered on the wall behind him. "What a mess!" grumbled the woman. Bits of mattress were strewn all over the floor. Trunks full of positions were in a jumbled heap, their contents hanging out. Two apprentices clad in their green robes were cowering on the floor as they were pelted with cutlery, inkpots and scraps of paper. "Get out of here, you two!" she shouted over the din. They didn't need telling twice. They scampered out of the room, tripping over various things on their way to the door. "Good." she said, closing it with a bang. "I assume they taught you how to deal with ethereal undead?" Famain tried to nod convincingly. "Excellent. I see you have a silver sword too." she glanced at the gleaming weapon fastened to his belt. "Well, if you are as _trained_ as you say you are, you'll have no problem with it. As you have seen, though we are skilled with magic, we are unable to deal with an ethereal of this power as we all lack skill in fighting with weapons." She pushed Famain forward. "Good luck!" she said and walked briskly out of the room, leaving him alone with the poltergeist, which was now setting fire to several pairs of formal robes. Slowly, Famain drew his sword. In his mind's eye he saw the lifeless guard, his iron fist clinging to Famain's leg, the blood pouring from his throat. Famain shuddered and shook his head. With a pop that made Famain jump out of his skin, the poltergeist showed itself for the first time. It was silvery and translucent, like a ghost, but its features were more distinguishable. It looked similar in structure to a Bosmer, short and slim with elongated pointed ears, but its face had an almost evil look to it. Its mouth split into a malicious grin as Famain cautiously moved forward, its slanted eyes watching his every breath, waiting for the opportune moment. It crouched low to the floor, its clawed hands gripping the wooden panels. Famain pointed his sword at the creature's throat, the tip of the blade just an inch from its ghostly form. To his surprise, the poltergeist winked at him. His grip slacked on his weapon. A second too late, he realized that was what the poltergeist had been waiting for. It sprung up at him like a cat, clawing at his face. As its claws sunk into his skin, Famain gasped in shock; each razor-sharp nail was like an icicle, chilling his blood as they dug in deeper and deeper. Somehow, he managed to throw it off. It let out a horrible, wailing screech as it slammed into the wall. Almost comically, it slid to the ground and lay there still as could be. It didn't fool him. Famain now knew better than to let his guard down when dealing the poltergeist. Famain crept towards it, his hand gripped tightly on his blade. Sure enough, the beast leapt to its feet and scampered behind him. Famain swung him and his sword round. A loud thunk and a squeal told him he'd hit his mark. The poltergeist snarled at him with its silver fangs. Before he could react, it had sunk its teeth into his palm. Howling with pain, Famain ran towards the wall and repeatedly smashed his hand against the wall. Too late he realized that it was the same hand that he'd broken his knuckles on. Tears of pain slid down his face as he tried desperately to shake off the ethereal that clung to his hand. After five minutes it let go, leaving Famain to cradle his now very sore hand. Famain glanced up at it with distaste. It too was crouched nursing its own injuries. One of the poltergeist's shoulders was oozing greenish blood and one of its legs was twisted in an odd angle. Famain looked at it with great interest. He had encountered ethereal before and none had ever been so human-like. He pondered for a moment if poltergeists were a rarity in Cyrodiil. He'd never seen them mentioned before in any books that he had read, nor had anyone ever spoken of one whilst he was in the vicinity. A loud growl brought him back to his senses. While he had been deep in thought, the creature had been edging its way closer and closer. It snarled again in frustration as its claw missed his leg. The poltergeist's own leg was still twisted bizarrely, making it impossible for it to stand. Famain picked up his sword, and with one almighty thrust, the poltergeist vanished in a wisp of smoke. Applause broke out from behind him, making him jump. Several mages, including Volanaro, Jeanne and the old woman were cheering and whooping from his victory over the poltergeist.

"Well done, boy." said Volanaro, smiling contently. "I believe Selena would like to talk to you." At that moment, the elderly woman who had set him the task walked over.

"Well, well, well. You _are_ as good a fighter as you say you are. Poltergeists are extremely tricky to handle. There not all that common, so their way of fighting isn't well known, but you coped." Famain smiled meekly. He felt nervous being among so many people for the first time in months. It worried him incase someone knew. "So," continued Selena. "What is it you wanted? As long as your request is within reason, I'll be happy to help." she smiled at him kindly. It made her look almost ten years younger.

"All I want is to know how to get to Frostcrag Spire." said Famain. "I need to see the wizard who is said to live there." Selena's eyes widened in shock at the simplicity of his request.

"Is that it?" she asked, still rather surprised. "Why, almost every business in the town could have told you where _that_ was…very well. Follow the path east into the Jeralls. It will lead you round one of the larger mountains. Near the peak is where it resides. It's impossible to miss." Famain thanked her and hurried out of the Mages Guild, a little annoyed that he had to do all that just to find out anyone could have told him where it was. Sighing, Famain retraced his steps to the gate. It had begun to snow, and the whole city was beginning to be engulfed by a thick blanket of the stuff. The guards opened the doors for him as they had done before. Famain took a deep breath and headed out into the freezing wilderness.


	10. Nine

Nine

Famain trudged through the knee-deep snow. The wind howled ferociously in his ears, whipping at his face and turning it red raw. He looked behind him and his face fell in dismay; after five hours of struggling up the mountain, Bruma was_ still _in sight! He groaned as he craned his neck to look at the peak which seemed impossibly high above him. At this rate, he'd be about eighty by the time he found Frostcrag Spire. Famain scrabbled at the snow in front of him. In the mere seconds he had been stationary, he had begun to sink. After much effort, he managed to pull himself free, and collapsed on the snow. Despite the cold, he was boiling under his parka. He pressed some snow into his face and hurriedly got to his feet. The snow around him was beginning to melt slightly, probably to do with his roasting body. The barely visible path was beginning to ascend more steeply now, making Famain even hotter. He went to wipe the sweat from his face, but the moment he touched his skin, he winced. Famain growled in anger.

"Idiot!" he muttered, berating himself. The snow, rather than relieving the stinging of his face, had worsened it.

"Should have realized!" he almost yelled, kicking at the snow in his fury. He snarled in agony as his foot collided with something very hard. Curious to see what had caused his foot to hurt so much pain, he dug into the ground to search for it. After a minute or two, he came across and odd, frozen object. He held it up to the sun, squinting at it to see if he could make sense of it. As he peered at it, his eyes met another set. This pair of small, beetle black eyes was contorted in obvious shock. He quickly made out a small fury snout too. In fact, the frozen object was a little lemming, probably frozen over after falling foul of a wizard of some sort, mistaking it for a somewhat more dangerous beast. He chuckled with black humor at the poor creature's misfortune. He cut of abruptly when he realized its implications. He would have to be more wary. He remembered the tales he had been told of desperate and paranoid men who trekked the Jeralls. Many were just like him, on the run from the law, probably driven mad by the social depravity. There were also bandits, and even worse, evil warlocks and necromancers in hiding after committing dark deeds. Not to mention the cultists, worshiping various daedric lords. Famain shook his head as if to clear his thoughts and pressed on. If the day was as cold as this, the nights surely would be unbearable. He shivered now instead of sweating. He forced his legs to move forward for sometime. Gradually, with each glance behind him, Bruma became less distinct, fading into the white blanket of snow. The sun was soon sinking behind the trees, but still Famain carried on, although he had lost all feeling in his legs by now. Masser, the greater of the moons, bathed him in its red hue. The light was peaceful, calming, soothing even. His eyes itched with tiredness but he ignored it. Like a sleep-walker, he made his way to a small ledge on the mountains. Finally, his knees buckled. As soon as he hit the floor, he drifted into unconscious dreams.

Famain woke the next morning writhing in agony. Every inch of him felt like it had been submerged in lava. His arms screamed, his legs burned, his head throbbed, threatening to knock him out. Every movement cause unimaginable pain.

"This is what you get for not being prepared!" he muttered to himself. His eyes seemed to be glued shut. It hurt too much to open them fully. The snow kept reflecting the sun, worsening his headache. What a fool he had been to push himself too much and make himself pass out, leaving his body vulnerable to the elements. And they had taken their toll. Through the small slits that he could see through, he had winced when he'd first seen his flesh. The skin was red and peeling away, wounds weeping over every inch of him. When he'd removed his boots, he was horrified to see that his nails had blackened and died. His palms were nothing more than a mass of oozing sores and he doubted that his finger prints now existed. Had it really been worth walking those extra couple of hours, covering that extra mile, for this? The simple answer; no. Famain groaned as he got to his feet. His legs shook violently and threatened to give way. He snatched up his bag and continued to climb. Every second was a greater effort than it had been when he'd been exhausted. The wind picked up, stinging his face, making it almost impossible to see. The snow blinded Famain as he staggered up the meandering path. It was like a thick fog, obscuring everything that wasn't a centimeter away. The wind growled ferociously, warding him back down the mountain…Famain's heart stopped. The wind didn't growl! Suddenly, everything went silent. The white fog disappeared. Gradually, a gigantic shape came into focus. The spectral form of a bear loomed ominously over him. Ten feet tall, it dominated the grey sky. Its paws were the size of plates, each claw viciously sharp. The creature's snowy white fur had disguised it in the snow, but as the sun's rays hit its broad back, it became plainly visible. It swayed on its hind legs, casting for Famain's scent. It let out another tremendous growl that shook the whole mountain, before landing on its front feet. Even on all-fours it was still over a head higher than Famain. Its beady black eyes stared at Famain, showing great curiosity about this new play-thing that had just entered his territory. The Redguard gulped. He had fought bears before, but never one this _big_. The black bears of Bravil _never_ got so huge. The bear now advanced, eerily silent for something so humongous. Looking down at his sword, Famain had a funny notion that it would do him no good in this fight. The bear was just a few inches away from him now. Famain could smell its rancid breath, heavy and hot against his freezing skin. The beast raised one of its giant paws and rose onto its hind legs once more. It towered over Famain and let out another ear splitting roar. Famain shut his eyes. There was no hope in fighting. He could only hope that death was quick, that it snapped his neck cleanly before devouring him. He didn't really fancy a long, drawn out demise full of pain and suffering. Famain heard a deafening whoosh as the bear's paw swung towards him. He braced himself, waiting for the sickening crack as it broke his bones, but it never came. Was it so quick that he never even felt it? Were he already dead, and the blackness he was now experiencing the darkness of death? He opened his eyes a fraction of a centimeter. He was still standing upright. The giant white form of the bear still loomed above him, but it was strangely still and silent. Famain gazed up at it in awe. It was frozen, its black eyes staring blankly into space. The beast's giant paw was stationary just inches from his neck. Curiously, Famain unsheathed his sword and prodded the bear's exposed stomach. The silver touched the creature's fur, but it was oddly solid, almost like marble. The blade had merely glanced of its hide, like there was some kind of invisible shield. It had left no small cut or anything similar.

"Careful now, the spell's going to wear off in a minute! Get over here boy, quick!"

Famain spun around, looking for the source of the voice. He peered round the stationary bear. A frail looking old man clad in a bizarre blue robe was beckoning frantically at him. He sprinted to the man's side, and faced the bear, his sword pointed towards it, still looking rather useless.

"Put that away, it'll do you no good. Let me handle this." Famain immediately obeyed. Suddenly, there was a loud crack. The bear began to keel over. A second before it hit the ground, Its front paws stretched out in front of it and it landed on all four feet. The bear shook itself and roared angrily. It turned round and charged at full speed towards them. Calmly, the old man muttered some words in a strange language. A huge ball of fire burst forward from his hands. The bear stopped abruptly, stunned by the giant flame soaring towards it. The fire hit it full in the face. The bear roared in pain as it fought to stop the flames which had engulfed its face. It staggered perilously close to the edge of the mountain. A loud rumble echoed all around, and this time it wasn't from the bear. A large chunk of ice and snow began to crumble away from the place where the beast was stood. It clawed desperately at the side of the mountain, but to no avail; its howls became gradually quieter as it plunged to its doom.

"T-th-thanks!" stammered Famain. He shivered slightly from the cold, and a little from shock.

"Don't mention it." said the old man gruffly. He lifted his embroided robe a bit as he trudged back up the mountain. Famain studied him for a moment. His robe was deep blue and embroided with gold moons and stars. The hem was a deep purple, and atop his head was a matching pointed hat. Alarm bells began to ring in Famain's head.

"Wait!" he called, racing after him. He caught up easily.

"Oh are you going to explain _why_ you were up here alone with no supplies?" said the elderly man sarcastically. He tugged a little at his long white beard. "Well, I'm sorry, I haven't time." He carried on up the now exceedingly steep climb.

"Sorry," panted Famain, "But, please tell me, are you the wizard who lives at Frostcrag spire?" The man stopped. He turned around and looked at Famain with curiosity.

"Yes, I am. Why?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You're not from the Mages Guild, are you? I've said it a hundred times that I'm not going to help Traven out of this Necromancer mess!" Famain shook his head frantically.

"I'm not a mage!" The wizard blew out a sigh of relief.

"Thank Julianos for that. I'm assuming you want my help? I'll do what I can so long as it's not some stupid petty thing like wanting a love potion."

"No, it's much more serious that that." The wizard smiled happily and clapped his hands together. "Good, I need a challenge. I haven't had anyone up here looking for help for a couple of years now." at that moment they reached the very top of the incline. Famain couldn't help but gasp. A spire larger than any building he'd ever seen stretched high into the sky. The sun shone on its pointed golden roof, blinding Famain for a moment. Small sections jutted out from the main spire. Just one look at it would tell you that this was a wizard's abode. Magic just seemed to hang in the air around it. Famain followed the wizard up the massive stone steps. At the top was a great gate. With a flick of his wrist, the elderly wizard opened the doors. Famain gasped in shock once more. The cavernous entrance hall seemed to reach the edge of the stratosphere. Famain had to squint to see the top. It was ornately decorated, the glass enchanted to make it look like ice. A beautiful circle of glass dominated the floor. It was surrounded by six smaller circles, each one just as perfectly carved as the next. The most astounding thing about the hall though, was the sculpture in the centre of the largest circle. The hand seemed to grow from the centre, reaching up as if to grab hold of the ceiling. It was perfectly carved so that a person could be seated on it, like the throne from a tale about an ice queen that Ursanne had told him many years ago. Famain marveled at the perfect angles of the sculpture. No normal mortal hands could have carved such a thing, or indeed created this tower.

"Ah, you are wondering how such a place came to be." Famain nodded, staring intently at the wizened old face before him. "I too wondered the same thing when my father bestowed this place upon me. Legend has it Julianos was very impressed my great-great grandfather's commitment to his studies of magicka. The Mages Guild cast him out, mocking him for his supposedly hair-brained ideas. It became evident that he was right all along, so the Divines rewarded him with this wondrous tower, along with great arcane powers for him and his kin. There's more to it than that, but I would need an era to tell it." he smiled. "The spire, as you have probably already guessed, is named after my family. I am Julian Frostcrag, named by my father who saw fit to honor god who bestowed upon us this great gift. No complaints there, of course. Now, to business, what is it you require of me?" Famain jumped a little, still absorbed in thoughts.

"Well," he began. He pondered for a moment how to phrase the next bit. "I'm in dire need of help. You see, I've had a few problems in my life. I, well accidentally killed someone." To his surprise, Julian didn't shout. He merely listened intently. "I'm loathed by my family, my friends, the empire and probably the Divines themselves. Please, I repent what I did, but what am I to do? No one would forgive me. I require your knowledge of the arcane arts to erase me from the memories of the ones I've hurt. For them to forget of my existence. So I can start afresh." Julian nodded solemnly.

"What a price you are willing to pay to stop the suffering of your friends and family. To make them forget you? I can do it, certainly, but is it what you want?"

"Yes. It is better to be forgotten than to be remembered by painful, hate-filled memories. I wish to escape my old life, that is true, but I don't want anyone to have to suffer with what I've done to them." Julian laced his hands together. His brow furrowed as he began to pace the hall. As he did so, he stepped on one of the smaller circles. Famain nearly had a heart attack. The wall in front of him slid slowly to the side, revealing a huge library. Julian beckoned to him then walked relatively quickly up one of the two flights of stairs leading to a balcony. He stopped abruptly by an enchantment table. From deep within his pockets, Julian withdrew a small, gold ring and placed it on the stand. He muttered in the same strange language that he'd used when confronting the bear. Several flashes and bangs later, he held out the ring, smiling sadly. It now had a faint glow around it.

"I have given you a choice now. I could of place this same spell on you permanently; however, there would be no way to reverse it if you regret your decision. I make the assumption that you know about the Grey Cowl of Nocturnal and all the controversy it caused when the Grey Fox revealed its powers?" Famain smiled slightly. Aleron had gone on a huge rant when the news came out that the grey sack the leader of the Thieves Guild wore was an enchanted daedric artifact. It was the hot topic in the empire for a year. The wearer of the cowl could commit any crime in front of a guard with the cowl on and if they took it of immediately after said crime, no one would make the connection between that person and the Grey Fox.

"Well, this enchanted ring works the opposite way around. Whilst you wear the ring, no one will know it's you. You could walk up to your mother and she would just see you as some stranger. When you remove it, everyone will know who you are again. Do you understand?" Famain nodded.

"Thank you. Is there anyway to repay you?" Julian opened his mouth to say no, than stopped. He thought for a moment then carried on.

"It's not really repayment, but there is something I need you to do. A friend of mine, a Khajiit named Ja-Kha Rira, is desperate to see you. She is a psychic of sorts. She told me that she saw a young Redguard with an interesting future trying to find me and told me if I ever found him to send him to her. I'll be bold enough to say the Redguard she spoke of is you." Famain looked at Julian, shock etched on his face.

"What does she want from me though?" he asked, still confused as to why a psychic Khajiit wanted to see him. He had thought he'd had enough hardships and adventures to last him a life time.

"Only the gods know and as she is in touch with Akatosh, God of Time, I think it wise that you see her. She is in Bravil currently. The faster the better I think, so I will get you there promptly." He swished his robes once and beckoned to Famain again. He trotted back down the stairs and towards a portal. Famain blinked once and he disappeared.


	11. Ten

Ten

Famain stepped off of the portal. That had been one of the most bizarre sensations of his life. His body was still tingling slightly from moving so impossibly quickly. His vision was still blurred, his ears still ringing. He also felt rather sick. The dark room was slowly beginning to come in to focus. A couple of draws and shelves lined the room and a bed was stationed next to him. A stone alter was positioned by the rounded wall furthest from him. Various alchemy apparatus were organized along it. Famain cast around in search for Julian; however he was nowhere to be seen. A loud bang and a large amount of cursing made him spin around. It was only then did Famain spot the ingredients garden, a cornucopia for any budding alchemist. Every plant Famain had ever seen, and indeed many he had never encountered, were growing in the garden. Famain would of bet everything he'd ever owned (which, to be truthful, had never been much) that every plant in Cyrodiil was growing here. Behind a large, moss-covered rock, Famain could just about see Julian's hat. The elderly wizard stood up slowly, shaking one of his hands which had a rather a deep cut in it.

"These Oblivion plants are supposedly domesticated!" he muttered angrily. He walked over to Famain, shaking his head. In his other hand, Julian was gripping several plant parts, including a blood red root which was writhing in his fist. He looked at Famain's stunned expression and laughed. "This," he said, nodding at the wriggling plant, "this is a Harrada, usually only found in the Plains of Oblivion. I've got a specimen here that's meant to be domesticated so it doesn't attack you like the wild variant. That, however, doesn't seem to hold true anymore." Famain nodded meekly, still bamboozled. He watched as Julian began to mix the ingredients at the alter, crushing and pouring the powders. Eventually he straightened up, a small vial clutched in his hand. He handed it to Famain.

"Will this take me to Bravil?" he asked, rather skeptical. Julian chuckled at his foolish question.

"Of course not! This is for when you arrive. You'll be taking one of my portals to their mages guild. When you're not used to portal travel like I am, you'll feel rather ill. This'll stop you from vomiting everywhere." Famain gulped as Julian lead him to a second portal on the other side of the bed. Once more, he hopped onto the portal, vanishing with a blink of the eye. Famain followed suite, and found himself on the top of the spire looking down on all of Cyrodiil. He would have been in awe had he not been feeling the ill effects of portal travel. He clapped his hand to his mouth as nausea gripped him again.

"Should I drink this now?" he asked Julian. The wizard was stood at the very edge of the balcony, looking down on the Imperial City. The White Gold Tower was clearly visible, its peak prominent against the surrounding grey clouds. The old man's head inclined slightly, so Famain quickly pulled the stopper off and downed the contents in one. He shuddered slightly as he drank; it tasted rather like over-cooked cabbage. He stepped forward to join Julian by the balcony. In front of them were nine portals; Famain assumed that each one lead to the nine major town's mages guild halls. Julian gestured towards the portal on his left. As Famain walked towards it, the wizard placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Good luck. I hope that Ja-Kha Rira tells you that your future is a happy one. Remember; place the ring on as soon as you get there so that no one recognizes you." He smiled sadly as Famain stepped onto the portal. His face seemed to float in front of his eyes as he disappeared.

Slowly, Bravil came into focus. He recognized the slum of a town immediately. Nothing had changed in his absence. Heeding Julian's warning, he slipped the ring onto his finger. He didn't feel any different with it on, but hopefully he would begin to see the effects. Going to Bravil would also give him the opportunity to test out the ring's magical abilities. He cast around for a familiar face, but the streets were empty. Setting off at a fast pace, Famain headed towards the church. Surely, there would be someone there. He wasn't disappointed. Anna herself was stood by the church's arched doors, clad in her usual robes. Famain felt his heart race. This would be the first time he'd seen her in months. He prayed that the ring would work, but a small part of him wanted it to fail the test, for her to recognize him.

"How can I help you?" she asked in a formal tone. The ring had worked. Relief and sadness washed through him at the same time. He gathered his thoughts, cleared his throat and addressed her in a similar way.

"I was wondering," he asked, slightly disturbed by talking his own sister in this way. "If you knew where I could find the Khajiit, Ja-Kha Rira. I have urgent business with her." Anna frowned at him, looking at him with suspicion and disbelief.

"I don't know what kind of real business you can have with a silly fortune teller, but that's beside the point. She's usually in the inn, Silverhome on the Water. You know where it is, don't you?" Famain nodded before hurrying off. That was beyond weird. Shaking his head, he followed the familiar streets to the inn. A large amount of shouting was issuing from within the building. Tentatively, Famain opened the door. A massive figure dominated most of the room, his head bent slightly to avoid the roof. He was bellowing as loud as he possibly could at Gilgondorin, the owner. The giant of a man could only be Thorniv. Famain remembered the chiseled features of his best friend perfectly. Helen was tugging in vain at his elbow, trying to get him to leave before he got arrested.

"I'm serious, I'll call the guard and have them haul you away to jail!" snapped Gilgondorin, shaking his fist threateningly.

"I'd like teh see yeh try!" bellowed Thorniv, swaying slightly from drunkenness.

"That is it! GUARDS! GUARDS! Please remove this man from my inn!" Thorniv growled angrily at Gilgondorin and spat in a freshly polished tankard. "Hope you rot in hell, Thorniv. I've had it up to here with your disruptions. I won't stand here and take it any longer!" He turned to Helen. Her face was bright red with shame, her eyes focused angrily on Thorniv. "You'll do well to rid yourself of him." That was the last straw. Thorniv lunged at Gilgondorin. The shear mass of him sent the Altmer flying across the room. Several screams filled the room as the pair tumbled over the tables.

"ASAULT!" cried a young Imperial man. He charged at Thorniv, trying to pull him from the innkeeper. Pandemonium ensued. Chairs flew across the room, scuffles broke out left right and centre as people picked sides. Famain tried to look inconspicuous by joining the normal pub-goers under the tables. It felt very odd indeed not helping Thorniv out in a brawl like he always used to. After several chaotic minutes, guards burst into the inn and began to cart away the trouble-makers. Thorniv was the last to be taken away due to his sheer size. It took eight guards to haul him out of the door, Helen following behind them, her head hung.

"It's a very weird sensation, watching your friends and family walk past you without a glance." A clawed hand fell upon his shoulder, making him jump. A Khajiit woman was stood behind him, watching on as everyone left Gilgondorin to the cleaning up. She was clad in a vibrantly colored dress, with lots of bangles and large hooped earrings to complete her gypsy look. She smiled toothily at him before picking up several plates gesturing him to do the same. This person was obviously Ja-Kha Rira. He stooped to help pick up the bits and pieces. The innkeeper looked relived that someone had stayed to help.

"Yeah, it is odd. I was expecting it, but it still took me by surprise, the effects." she nodded with understanding.

"I know much of this. I too sought out the great powers of the Frostcrag's. My powers were recognized by my great friend, Julian. I made many a mistake, but Julian is greatly gifted too and helped me sort it all out. I helped him for many, many years before parting ways. We still keep touch, of course. That is how you came to be here, is it not? I must thank him for that."

"You were also like me? Did a lot wrong and searched for him to help you out?" Ja-Kha Rira nodded again.

"Yes, I did many bad things. A lot of people wanted me dead in Elsweyr. The Dark Brotherhood was sent to search. So I trekked all of Cyrodiil for Julian. When he met me, he saw my power, so I delved into his future in repayment. I used to see the future all the time, but now, now I see it only occasionally." she sighed sadly. "But whilst I slept in an inn in Leyawiin, your future unfolded to me. I have been desperate to see you ever since." Her voice was low now, blocking out Gilgondorin.

"What did you see?" Famain asked eagerly. The Khajiit grabbed his sleeve and tugged him outside. Slashes of pink and yellow flew across the sky as sunset neared. Ja-Kha Rira pulled him down a dark side street. If anyone looked down here, they would see nothing but black shadows. A perfect hiding place.

"I must talk to you where we are safest." she explained. "One's future should only be known by the Gods, their prophets and the person, or people, concerned. And even then, sometimes the ones involved should not know. It is always the prophet's decision whether or not to confide in them." Famain nodded in understanding. He watched the dark shape that was Ja-Kha Rira sit down, so he followed suite. Her amber eyes flashed to left and right, checking for eavesdroppers. When the sighted no one, she let out a sigh of relief and continued.

"I have made the choice to tell you, to warn you, of the danger that lies ahead of you. You have a dark future in your midst, full of death and despair. It will begin with a portal that will open not far from here. The realm beyond is not like this one. Everything is wrong, nothing is sane in there. It drives many people mad within moments. You will venture deep within this place; discover much about the unholy daedric prince, Sheogorath that rules it. In that realm, you will find that your eyes are not unusual to come by. Many staring gold eyes, many staring silver eyes. In their minds they see a forbidden heir, seemingly come to take his rightful throne. You will cause much controversy; many will die fighting for, or against you. In your despair of finding out your true heritage, you will delve into evil. Your life will be controlled by an addiction that you are unable to fight. In your final hours, you will reveal yourself for who you are to the ones you left behind…" she trailed of, unable to continue. Famain stared at her, speechless. What was she on about? A portal to, what she implied was Sheogorath's realm? It couldn't be possible. "But it is!" she moaned, reading is thoughts. "The Gateway to Madness will re-open, for the first time in nearly twenty years! The reason behind your existence is this. You are tied between two worlds, bound by bone and soul to each! It is you destiny, bleak though it may be. There is no escaping it." Ja-Kha Rira looked at him with sorrow. The sound of her footsteps as she walked away hung in the air. Still, Famain did not speak. His mind was whirring. She _had_ to be wrong. How could it be possible for him to be the son of anyone in the Realm of Madness, let alone the daedric prince that ruled it? Was that what she had meant by 'forbidden heir'?" He sat there, on the ground until the sun rose the next morning. He didn't sleep, his brain still processing the information. Maybe, just maybe, nothing would happen. Maybe the gate would never re-open and he could live a peaceful life, perhaps in the Imperial City itself. It was as he attempted to give himself hope that loud shouts issued from the gate to the Niben Valley. He got up and slowly walked towards the area where the noise was coming, not sure if he wanted to know what the problem was. The gates were wide open. Collapsed on the ground was a guard, his face red from running. Two more were knelt beside him.

"Tyrin, what's wrong?" asked one, a Redguard. The guard on the floor shook his head. He looked as if he were about to be sick.

"Come on, what is it that had you screaming blue murder? It wasn't a bear, was it?" asked the other, drawing his sword and casting around for a monster of some sorts.

"No," gasped Tyrin, "I w-as patrol-lling the coast when a-an island, rose from the bay! A-a huge gateway materialized on it. Thr-three head-s on the gate! A blue glow is-sued from it! It can't be fr-from the-the daedra can it?" A loud clatter came from outside the gate. The second guard came running back, his face grim.

"This happened before, years ago. That blasted Sheogorath must have re-opened his sodding gate to the Shivering Isles! I was about fifteen when it happened last time. We've got to get there quick, before anyone goes inside! Jode, wake the guard captain!" the guard ran off back out the gate whilst the other ran into the tower, leaving Tyrin shivering on the ground. Famain felt as if the ground had fallen away.

A few hours ago, he thought it was the end of his adventure.

Really, it was only the beginning.


End file.
